Love's Greatest Gamble
by CrazyLazyAlien
Summary: According to Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline's beloved husband Damon had been a gambler and a wastrel-and in fact he had died owing Klaus enormous, sums of money, which was how Klaus had virtually forced her to marry him. But Caroline had never stopped loving Damon, and she refused to believe the worst of him- so what kind of marriage could she expect now?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! :D I hope you guys watched TVD 100th episode! How did you feel about Klaroline's make out? The fact that Klaus is never going to come back kills me too! Anyhow, at least JP did present us klaroline. Shippppp to the end! Here's a new fanfic. If you're wondering about The Sleeping Fire, my computer died so I lost all my files. But this came up. If I find the inspiration to continue that fanfic I will definitely do it. Ugh my complicated mind.**

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A STAB of pain warned Caroline that she was developing a headache. Slowly she massaged her throbbing temples, closing her eyes to shut out the unwelcome sight of the cheque book lying open on the table. How could she have been so stupid as to forget to fill in the amount or who it was paid to? Somehow, it seemed she had, and the discovery sent the scales of her carefully balanced budget tilting dangerously. With a sigh, she took another bill from the pile and her heart lurched anew at the amount. It was from Dr Meredith, Candice's dentist, and was the first of many she could expect before her daughter's dental problems were solved.

The strident ring of the doorbell shattered her concentration. Bother! She would never get the statement balanced at this rate. She tried to ignore it, but it rang again, longer and more insistently this time. Slapping the pen down hard, she stalked to the front door, rehearsing the cutting things she would say to the salesman she expected to find there.

But the words died stillborn on her lips as she flung the door wide to reveal a strikingly attractive man leaning nonchalantly against the verandah post. The frank appraisal in his eyes startled her as his gaze wandered deliberately over every feature of her body. He was so tall that when he straightened up, her eyes were on a level with his shoulder, whose broad expanse was emphasised by the expensive-looking leather jacket he wore. From under a crop of thick, waving dirty blonde hair, his eyes shone diamond-bright green with a roguish and knowing air that both titillated and alarmed her. Whoever he was, he was certainly no salesman.

"Mrs Damon Salvatore?"

With an effort, she nodded. "Yes, but I'm afraid my husband died two years ago."

He did not seem surprised but went on studying her in the same disconcerting way, his lips curling into a mocking expression. "I know. It's really you I came to see. My name is Klaus Mikaelson."

So that was where she had seen him before, in the newspaper and on the television. Klaus Mikaelson was easily the wealthiest foreign man in the America, came from England. His flamboyant business deals and colourful romances were reported with equal enthusiasm by the press. Although their paths had never crossed, Caroline, along with every other female in Manhattan, had followed his exploits in prints, so she knew he owned one of the city's two casinos as well as a string of other properties around New York. What on earth could such a man want with her? Belatedly, she remembered her manners. "Won't you come in, Mr Mikaelson?" she invited.

The house seemed to shrink as he entered his height and build dwarfing the furniture. Like a territorial animal stalking its claim, he prowled the length and breadth of the living room, his sharp eyes missing nothing as his gaze rested for the nearest moment on the cheque stubs and bills littering the table.

Knowing she should say something but unable to find the words, Caroline waited while he completed his inspection, conscious that despite the alarm bells going off in her head, she was more painfully aware of this man than she had ever been of anyone. Her throat felt parched when she finally recovered her power of speech. "Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank you. I shan't stay long. I was just curious to see what sort of woman Damon Salvatore was married to."

"I take it you knew my husband," Caroline said coldly, not sure why she felt so disturbed by his presence and wishing he would make his point.

"You could say that. He was in debt to my casino for eleven hundred thousand dollars."

Caroline gasped and clutched a hand to her mouth. Then common sense came to her aid. "We can't possibly be talking about the same man. My husband was no gambler!"

Klaus Mikaelson arched an eyebrow towards his hairline. "His name was Damon Guiseppe Salvatore."

A cold hand gripped Caroline's heart. Guiseppe had been Damon's mother's maiden name. "Perhaps someone was using my husband's name illegally?"

"It's possible, but somehow I doubt it," he said dryly. "However, we can settle that at once. Have you a photo of your late husband?"

Too shaken to speak, she walked over to the bookcase and picked up the photo album, handing it to Klaus. He riffled through the pages until he came to a snapshot of two men in American army uniform, their arms linked, then pointed to the taller man on the left. "Damon?" Caroline nodded. "Then there's no mistake, Mrs Salvatore." He stood up. "I'll be going now. I just wanted to see what his wife—what you—were like now. I just wanted to track you down. Damon gave a false address in Virginia, so it took some time to uncover the truth."

Caroline jumped to her feet, running a distracted hand through her long tumble of blonde hair, the gesture making the curls even more disorderly. "Wait—you can't come here and drop a bombshell like that and then just walk out! You may have answered all your questions, but you certainly haven't answered any of mine!"

He sat down again heavily, distaste mirrored on his even features. "Since you prefer to pretend ignorance, Mrs Salvatore, I will indulge you. Whenever your husband was in New York, he patronized my casino, in the NOLA Hotel."

"I know it," Caroline said dully, her mind a seething mass of conflicting emotions.

Klaus ignored the interruption. "Damon had a taste for large wagers. At first, his cheques were good for the amounts he owed. Then he offered deeds to his properties in Virginia as surely for the balance."

"But we don't own…"

"I know that now," he commented sourly. "Too late, I found out from my overseas associates that he was carrying out similar fraudulent activities outside America as well."

Caroline's mind was reeling. It couldn't be true, it couldn't! And yet there were all those times Damon had claimed to be working late, calling on clients in town. Looking at Klaus sitting so much as ease in her home as if it was a mere extension of his empire, she felt a wave of revulsion towards him for sowing such doubts in her mind. Luckily, the inner strength she had so determinedly nurtured since Damon's death came to her aid. "Mr Mikaelson," she said icily, "what purpose can it serve telling me all this now?"

He shrugged. "None, except to satisfy my curiosity. Frankly, I pictured you more as a hardbitten shrew who sat at home counting the takings while her husband was out doing the dirty work."

"That's enough, Mr Mikaelson!" Her outraged cry cut through the air like a whiplash, surprising even herself. With a supreme effort, she reined in her mounting fury. "Why should I feel compelled to explain myself to you, I can't imagine," she said when she could speak coherently again. "However, you have my word that I knew nothing of Damon's supposed activities, far less masterminding them."

His mocking expression clearly told her that the word of the swindler he believed her to be was of no value. Caroline realised then that she could never convince him she was innocent when he had obviously tried her and found her guilty in his own mind.

"I suppose you were hoping to get your money back," she added.

"Not much chance of that, is there? Such a debt can't be enforced against a widow, unless, of course, I could prove she had a hand in the whole business."

The thought that he might try to prove such a thing sent cold shivers down Caroline's spine. He couldn't find any proof, since none existed, but a powerful man like Klaus Mikaelson could make her life bearable if he chose.

Shrieks from the garden reminded her that Candice and her friend Kat were playing not far away. At all costs, Candice must not hear any of this. Anxiously, almost pleading, she asked Klaus to leave.

He rose easily. "As you like, Mrs Salvatore. But don't think you've heard the last of me. Despite your fragile looks and protestations of innocence, I can't believe you could ne so ignorant of your husband's affairs. Now I know where to find you I'll be doing some more checking. Good day for the present."

The door clicked shut behind him and Caroline was left standing alone in the middle of the living room, every nerve jumping. She hadn't even shaken hands with him, yet she felt as if his very presence had sullied her. She rubbed her palms against the sides of her dress. The nerve of the man, to suggest that Damon had been a swindler and then to accuse her of being an accomplice! He had all but told her she didn't know her own husband, which was patently absurd!

But was it? A shudder racked her slender frame as she was forced to admit to herself how strained things had been between her and Damon after he came home from Vietnam. Oh, outwardly, he was the same, slimmer and more muscular perhaps, but with the same boyish looks and haircut. It was inside that he had changed most. The spark of devilment which drove him to play silly jokes on her and Candice was completely extinguished. The moments when he romped on the lawn with his child grew fewer and finally stopped altogether. Yes, there had been changes she admitted reluctantly, but surely nothing that would alter his whole attitude to life?

She smiled as she recalled how happy Damon had been when he got the job with NY Airway. Selling light planes was something he felt sure he could do and it gave him an opportunity to keep up his flying skills which were in danger of growing rusty after he left the army. It seemed to Caroline that after the long month of aimless drifting during which it looked as if he would be unable to settle to anything, he had finally regained a sense of direction. The new job meant he would have to travel a lot both within America and sometimes to Asia, his knowledge of that region being one of the reasons why he had got the job. But Caroline was quite used to him being away at times, so she knew she could cope, and then they would be able to go with him some of the time.

She remembered as if it was yesterday how excited they were when he came home and announced that there were all going to an air show at Los Angeles.

"Of course, that's if you can stand having me as your pilot."

She hugged him and in response, he swung her around, lifting her feet off the floor. "I can stand it," she laughed. "When do we leave?"

At first, the trip was like a second honeymoon. Several graziers showed keen interest in Damon's planes during the exhibition before the show and it looked as though at least one of the sales would be a certainty. It was only when the aerial demonstrations got under way that things began to go so badly awry.

The display opened with a fly-past of delta-winged Air Force jets which roared overhead in impressively close formation. Candice watched them go and bounced up and down excitedly in Caroline's arms. "Daddy! Daddy!"

Caroline smiled and nodded. Damon couldn't know how often she and Candice had watched the sky while he was away, and she had said to the little girl. "Look, Daddy's in one of those." Now Candice remembered. But the glow of happiness drained from Caroline's face as she looked at Damon. His face was drawn in an expression of agony and teeth were clenched. One hand gripped the edge of a table with such force that his knuckles were white. As the planes went over again he flinched and hunched forward as if it was taking an effort of will not to throw himself down on the ground.

"Damon—Damon, what is it? What's the matter?" She had to say his name several times before he responded, then he reacted like a man emerging from a terrible dream. He shook his head as if to clear it and looked at her at first without recognition.

"What? Oh, I'm alright."

"No, you're not," she contradicted. "It was the planes, wasn't it? Do they remind you of the war?"

His face darkened and his fury in his expression made her suddenly fearful. "I told you, I'm O.K. Why make a big thing out of it?" Before she could say anything more, he announced that he was going to get a drink and strode off.

Nonplussed, she watched him go, bitting her lip to stop the tears from coming. She felt goaded to movement, any movement, and put Candice down. "Let's go and get you come ice cream." The little girl nodded vigorously and slipped her hand in Caroline's as they went in search of the refreshment tent.

For the rest of the day, Caroline waited anxiously for some sign of apology or explanation from Damon, but it was as if he was unaware of the devastating effect his words had had on her. When he did speak, it was with a mechanical quality which reminded her of his plane flying on auto-pilot—going through all the right motions, but to see him like this, but any attempt to get through to him only ended in rebuff.

By the time they returned to their motel she was exhausted both from the day's event and from the nervous tension that stretched between them like a tightrope wire. So she was relieved when he announced he was going out with some people he had met earlier in the day. She was not so pleased when she saw the type of men who came to collect him in their car. Both of them were smooth and fast-talking, and one of them eyed her with frank appreciation, but if Damon noticed, he said nothing. It seemed they were frequent patrons of some sort of club in the area and they had offered to introduce Damon there. The shady character of the whole thing worried Caroline, but Damon was in no mood to listen to her misgivings. With a perfunctory kiss, he left her standing at the motel door.

It was the second time that day that she had been forced to watch him depart, and the sense of desolation she felt was overwhelming. She was only losing him for an evening, she told herself sternly. So why did it feel she was losing him for ever?

"Mommy, where are you?"

She turned slowly back inside to tuck Candice in for the night. Even though she was half asleep already after her exhausting day, the little girl was determined not to be cheated of her usual bedtime story. It was just as well, she thought, for the activity was just what she needed to forestall the awful feeling of the foreboding which hung over her like a cloud. Damon would soon be home, she told herself as she settled down with a book at Candice's bedside.

But he did not return until the early hours of next morning, when he did, she was horrified at his appearance. If it had been any other man, she would have said he was drunk, except that Damon drank very little. Rather, she thought he seemed drunk on excitement. His eyes were hard and glittering and his face was unusually flushed. When he climbed into bed beside her, he held her close to him with a ferocity that was frightening. And when he made love to her for the first time in many weeks, it was none of his usual tenderness and consideration.

"What was the club like?" she asked him much later.

"Oh, the usual sort of crowd," he said evasively. "You know."

No, she didn't know. All she knew was the next day he took her and Candice into LA and insisted on buying complete new outfits of clothes for them both. When she voiced her concern about the cost he showed her his wallet bulged with notes. "You know the grazier who couldn't make up him mind about the order?" She nodded. "Well, I met him again at the club last night and he not only decided to buy the plane, he persuaded his neighbour to buy one too. They signed the orders on the spot and I talked the LA office into paying me the two commissions this morning. Happy now?"

He seemed so anxious to obtain her approval that she hugged him. "Of course I'm happy. Congratulations, darling!"

She has no reason to doubt that he was telling the truth. After all, the grazier had been very interested. It was unusual for Damon's commissions to be paid in advance of the planes being delivered, she thought, but then she admitted she really knew very little about how the business was conducted.

Now, as the pieces came tumbling into place, she thought what a fool she had been not to probe more deeply. She might have been able to help Damon then, at the start…before it was too late.

He had never brought them with him on business trip again, although his visits interstate and to Asia became more frequent. Sometimes he did not come home even when his business was in New York. She recalled the times he told her he had to stay overnight at a hotel in town to close a deal with some station owner or visiting businessman. At first, she urged him to bring his customers home—she would willingly have played hostess for him. But she completed accepted his explanation that these men were all wealthy, accustomed to the best of everything, so she could hardly expect them to stay in a suburban bungalow. He told her they expected to be wined and dined in style in return for their considerable business favours.

In those days, money was never the pervasive problem it had become lately. Although there was never quite as much left over as Caroline used to think there should be given the amount of time and energy Damon was putting into his work. He has become almost fanatical about seeing that bills were paid on time, especially the mortgage on their modest house, purchased before he went away. She recalled one incident which, until now, had made no sense to her. She had been nursing Candice through about of measles and had been unable to leave the house for a week, when Damon came home and handed her a bundle of notes.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"This month's commission. I want you to see it's paid off the house. Will you do that?"

There was urgency in his tone that baffled her. "Well, yes, but I won't be able to go to the bank for a few more day yet. Couldn't you pay it when you're in town?"

The dark haunted look had returned to his face. "Can't you ever do anything I ask?" he demanded roughly. When he saw how hurt and puzzled she looked at this, he seemed to relent. "Keep it," he said more gently. "There're several months payments there. Fix it up when you get a chance ok?"

Caroline nodded shakily. "Alright, darling, if it's that important to you."

He took her in his arms in a fiercely enveloping embrace which left her breathless. "It is important to me. You must remember, no matter what happens, I love you and Candice more than anything else in the world."

_No matter what happens._ It had seemed a strange sort of thing for him to say, but he brushed it aside as being unimportant when she asked him about it. Then, soon after, he went off on another business trip, and a week later a policeman came to the house to tell her that Damon had been found dead in his hotel room.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory. If only Damon had allowed her to help him instead of trying to carry all his burdens alone! A great sigh which was a half-sob shook her. Damn Klaus Mikaelson! If he hadn't come here with his vile accusations, she wouldn't be thinking like this. At once a wave of guilt washed over her as she realised how easily she had begun to doubt Damon. After all, it was only Klaus Mikaelson's word against Damon's, and he was not able to defend himself.

She was shaken by the strength of emotions warring within her. Klaus Mikaelson was hateful beyond belief to come here and make such accusations against Damon. They were not true, they couldn't be—she was letting Damon memory down even allowing herself to think in this way.

And yet there was something about Klaus Mikaelson that encouraged faith in him. Even now, she was unable to break free of the memory of his compelling eyes and the menace of his mocking smile.

Her eye was drawn to something white and shining on the hall table, and she found herself moving towards it as if hypnotised. At last she reached out a trembling hand and picked up the business card Klaus Mikaelson had dropped contemptuously as he left. Holding it between thumb and forefinger as if it could bite, she noticed the elegance of the raised gold printing which introduced the owner as Niklaus Mikael Mikaelson, Managing Director of Mikaelson International Corporation. His address and telephone number were also on the card.

"Mommy, can Kat and I have some orange juice?"

With a start, Caroline dropped the card back into the ashtray where it lay staring up at her in mute accusation.

"Mommy, what's the matter?"

She wrenched her eyes away from the card and fixed a reassuring smile on her face as she turned to her daughter. "I'm alright, darling. You go and pour yourself a drink."

"Thanks!" Candice rushed off again towards the kitchen, her haste causing her to skid on the polished floor like an unco-ordinated puppy. In spite of the turmoil raging within her, Caroline was forced to smile, then she frowned again as she thought of the hurt Klaus could inflict on her child with just a word.

The doorbell rang again and Caroline jumped. "It's only me," said a cheery voice, and Caroline sagged against the wall as she recognized her dear friend.

"Bonnie, I'm so glad it's you!"'

The other woman studied her in alarm. "What's up, Care? You're white as a ghost. Have the children been a handful?"

"No, it's not that. Kat's never any trouble."

"Then, what is it? Something's given you a shock, and you know I won't give up till you tell me what it was."

Bonnie's sympathy and concern were too much. All at once, Caroline's shaky defences collapsed. To her horror, she began to cry and found, once she started, she was unable to stop. Without a word, Bonnie put a supporting arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch. A handkerchief appeared from somewhere and Caroline buried her face in its folds. The sobs seemed to come from the depths of her being and she clung to Bonnie like a small child as the other woman stroked her hair and murmured soothing words. Their sense didn't reach her, but the reassuring tone gradually had its effect. At last the tears subsided. Between choking back sobs, Caroline recounted the details of Klaus Mikaelson's visit and shocking news he brought.

Bonnie's voice seemed to come from far away. "You had to find out the truth some time."

Horrified, Caroline pulled away from her and sat up shoulders still heaving. "What did you just say?"

Bonnie looked down at the floor. "There were some things you didn't know about Damon," she said softly.

"You mean you knew, and you didn't tell me?"

"How could I, Care? You were head over heels in love. You wouldn't have believed me anyway."

This last stabbed at Caroline's core. It was all too true. The years she had spent as Damon's wfe, both the interlude before he went to Vietnam and the two years afterwards, had passed in a romantic haze. Now that dream world was crumbling into ashes. "You'd better tell me the rest," she said flatly.

"No, Care, not me. Besides, I don't know the whole story." Bonnie stood up decisively. "You and Candice are coming home with us tonight and Jeremy can tell you the truth. He always felt you should know. I was the one who wanted to protect you. I only hope, now, you can forgive me for it."

To see her normally effervescent friend so downcast tore at Caroline's already ragged headstrings. Impulsively, she hugged Bonnie. "I know you did what you thought best."

Bonnie nodded, her eyes brimming with grateful tears. She brushed them aside impatientily and hurried outside to round up the two girls playing on the swing. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Caroline pushed a few things for them both into an overnight bag and went to join Bonnie at the car.

Normally, the Gilberts household was a riotous centre of happy laughter, children's shrieks and intense discussions at maximum volume. Today, the atmosphere was charged with tension as Bonnie reported the afternoon's events to her husband. Exhausted after her recent outburst, Caroline could only nod agreement as Bonnie urged Jeremy to tell her the whole story.

But it was not until the children were settled into bed for the night that he was able to satisfy her desire. She settled back in the cane chair and waited, not at all sure she wanted to have her cherished illusions shattered beyond repair, but knowing she would have no peace of mind until she knew the truth.

Restively, Jeremy wandered around the room, nervousness making his limp more pronounced than usual. Finally, he braced his back against the side of the dining table and turned to Caroline. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you, Caroline. You know what you mean to Bonnie and me. But it's true, Damon was a compulsive gambler."

Caroline stifled a sob and clenched her hands tightly together. You wanted to hear it all, she told herself sternly. "Go on," she whispered.

"He always liked a flutter, even before we went to Vietnam. But he managed to keep it under control. Besides, as a single man in the Army, he had nobody to spend his money but himself. Then when he married you, he tried very hard to do the right thing by you and Candice. I think he would have succeeded if it hadn't been for the war."

Abruptly, Jeremy started pacing again, unable to still the restlessness that always overcame him when he spoke of those years. The dragging legs served to emphasize his next words. "The war was just too much for Damon. He cared too much. The dirt, the poverty, the disease—nobody who hasn't experienced it can possibly imagine what it can do to a man." The eyes he turned to Caroline were filled with pain. "It damn near destroyed me. And it did destroy Damon." Jeremy gestured towards the walking stick that was never far from his hand. "Damon's scars weren't as obvious as mine, but they were there. When he came back he just wanted to get away from his memories and the best way he knew how was at the gaming table."

Caroline's face drained of colour. "If only he'd confided in me!"

"He was ashamed of his weakness, Caroline. He was terribly afraid of losing your love and respect, so he kept it from you. I tried to help and advise him, but my pension didn't stretch to the kind of debts he ran up. The job he took after he left the Army didn't help, either. Travelling all over the way he did gave him too many opportunities to gamble."

"But eleven hundred thousand dollars—how could he have lost so much? And Klaus Mikaelson said he wasn't the only one Damon owed money to."

Jeremy gave her a wry look. "It doesn't take very long to go through money in a casino, not if you're on a losing streak. In Vegas, we watched men throw away hundred thousands of dollars in a few hours."

Caroline felt a strange calm descending on her. Her first turbulent reaction seemed to have burnt themselves out, passing over like the eye of a hurricane and leaving a passing over like the eye of a hurricane and leaving a detached coolness in its wake. Now she felt a compelling need to know every detail, to be purged of any remaining areas of doubt. "But how, Jeremy?" she persisted. "I mean, what was Damon's weakness—cards?"

"Sometimes. Mostly, it was roulette. I remembered how he seemed almost hypnotised by the spinning wheel. In the Army, he used to say the sound of that little ball going around reminded him of distant gunfire. Once he said he gave it money as a sort of sacrifice, to appease it so it would leave him alone. I thought he was joking then, although I always thought it was a strange thing to say."

Caroline looked down at her hands, folder so primly in her lap. "But he wasn't joking, was he?"

Jeremy reached for his stick and began to pace again, slowly and thoughtfully. "No, he wasn't joking. He knew he was drawn to the tables, but he didn't seem to realise it was an addiction. He always said he was going to give it up, and I thought he had once he was back home with you and Candice. Then about a year after we got back, he started again. I don't know what triggered it off, but I knew he was back at it again because of the way he was acting. When I asked him about it, he tried to deny it, but I'd seen him like that before."

A year after he came home? So she'd guessed right. Haltingly, she told them about remembering the experience at the air show, and Damon's reaction to the military fly-past.

"I'd say that did it," Jeremy agreed. "Probably brought back everything he was trying to push from his mind."

Recalling Damon's flushed face and glittering eyes after he returned from the club, Caroline knew Jeremy was right. The excitement and challenge of gambling had been the catharsis he needed to lay the ghosts called up by the planes flying over. If only it had all been so clear to her then.

Bonnie looked from Caroline to Jeremy, her expression clearly puzzled. "Look, I can understand how he managed to get away with it interstate and overseas, where he wasn't known. But this was going on for almost a year, in New York too. Didn't anyone recognise him, or try to help him?"

"How many people in our circle do you know who can afford to patronise the NOLA Hotel?" Jeremy asked. When Bonnie shook her head, he continued, "He probably went there once or twice quite innocently, with customers. It's the sort of place you would expect to be taken if you were going to spend millions on a new plane. And as long as Damon was winning, there'd be no problem. It would only be when he went back on his own, and began to lose, that he would have to give a name, to obtain a credit."

Caroline twisted the tissue into a tight ball and gripped it convulsively between her fingers. "Klaus Mikaelson did say he gave a false name and an address in Virginia," she admitted. "He said he used title deeds to imaginary properties in Virginia as surely for loans."

"Surely he would have needed identifications," speculated Bonnie.

Jeremy nodded. "That's true, but people feeding on addiction become awfully cunning about it. Besides, Caroline says he was mixing with some dubious types in LA. Maybe he learned a few things from them."

"So it would seem," Bonnie responded dryly.

"I can't believe all this applies to Damon!" Caroline burst out. "He always said he loved me and Candice."

Bonnie moved over to perch on the arm of the chair and put a supportive arm around her shoulders. "Now that's one thing you must never doubt," she said firmly. "Whatever weaknesses Damon may have had, he was devoted to you and Candice. Why do you think he was so insistent on the house being in your name and you making the payments—because he cared about you so much."

The calm was over and the gathering storm broke at last. Tears welled in Caroline's eyes and she began to shake uncontrollably. "I know," she whispered. "He didn't trust himself to make the payments, so he forced me to do it, to stop him using the money for..for anything else. Oh, Bonnie, to think I never even suspected what he was going through." One final question burned in Caroline's brain. She was desperately afraid of the answer, but the question had to be asked. "Jeremy, tell me, do you think he took his own life?"

Jeremy's tone was harsh but positive. "No, don't ever even think it. Damon was weak, but he was no coward. I know he was having trouble sleeping and taking pills to try to get some rest. I think he was so mixed up he just didn't realise how many he'd taken. You have to believe that too."

"I do, Jeremy, of course. I've never really doubted that. Nothing you've told me can change the love I had for Damon, but I'm glad I know it all now." Weighed down with sadness for a dream that could never be restored. Caroline bowed her head and wept silently, not for herself this time but for Damon, who had loved her too much to let her share his tragic secret. At last she looked up, facing Bonnie and Jeremy with her chin held high and her eyes alight with a new crusading quality. "Tomorrow, I'm going to call on Mr Klaus Mikaelson," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm going to pay him back every cent that Damon owed him."

Bonnie was baffled. "But why? You said he can't enforce the debt."

"It's the only way I can make him believe that I was not involved in Damon's activities. As long as he thinks I was, he could decide to make the truth public, and I can't risk that, for Candice's sake. She idolised her father, or the man she believes he was. The truth would destroy her."

"But how will you ever find eleven hundred thousands? Jeremy and I would help you if we could, you know that but there's no way we could find that sort of money."

Caroline squeezed Bonnie's hand. "I know. You two have done more that I can ever repay already."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, but somehow I'll find a way."

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**Sooooo—how do you guys feel about this new fanfic? I'm sorry to trash you with lots of flashback in one chapter. Well, this is about klaroline, so I've got to get it straight to the point and not drag it. I don't despise Damon but he was the only one I could use as the late husband character. I ship Damon x Elena; so yeah..have to kill his character at the very start cause I don't plan to write about Elena. I can't handle so many characters. But the story is mainly KLAROLINE. My biggest ship! As you read, we have Bonnie x Jeremy. I'm still contemplating whether to bring all the originals into the story, probably not all. I'll see. More of Klaus and Caroline interaction the next chapter. :D**

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woohoo! I've updated! Thank you for the lovely reviews! :D I will not be abandoning this fanfic 'cause I've already had the whole story plotted. It's just the matter of time to type them.**

**Enjoy!**

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NEXT morning as she sat in the reception area of Klaus Mikaelson's opulent NOLA Hotel, she was no longer so confident. In her ten years in New York it was the first time she'd ventured into what the newspaper called the playground of the rich. Klaus Mikaelson's office was on the top floor of the spectacular half-moon building. The reception area was a sea of glass and pale timber with floor-to-ceiling windows looking seaward, but today Caroline was in no mood to appreciate the view, however breathtaking.

A sound interrupted her reverie and she looked up to find Klaus Mikaelson himself looming over her. The leather jacket of the previous day has been replaced by tailored black linen slacks and white silk shirt silt to the waist under a black tailored blazer. He looked more than ever like an upper class urban pirate as he appraised her with that all-knowing expression. "Hayley told me you wanted to see me. Come to confess all?"

"Not wanted to, was left no choice," Caroline hissed back, aware that the impeccably groomed Hayley could hear every word. "Couldn't we talk privately?"

He frowned. "So you do care about your image—that's interesting. I shouldn't have thought it mattered to a woman like you."

Caroline's cheek burned with mixture of shame and anger; shame that he could be so convinced of her guilt, and anger that he dared slander her good name so casually in front of others. "Since you obviously have your mind made up, I'm wasting my time here." She stood up with all the dignity she could muster, but as she turned towards the elevators, her heel caught in the carpet pile and she stumbled so that Klaus was forced to catch her to prevent her sprawling all her length on the floor. For a moment she caught in his encircling arms, painfully aware of his overwhelming masculinity and feeling his corded muscles tight against her back through the thin material of her dress. Her breath caught in her throat as he stood her upright again, leaving the arm where it was. As she tried to step clear, his hold tightened. "We'll go into my office." His tone indicated that she had no choice. As they passed the reception desk, Caroline could feel the secretary's eyes boring into her back like twin laser beams.

Once inside his office, Klaus thrust her away from him with a powerful sweep of his arm so that she half fell into a chair.

"Are you always so brutal?" she asked coldly, more shaken that she cared to admit.

He dropped into the chair opposite. "Not brutal, Mrs Salvatore, just practical. Let me make myself clear. If you were a lady, I would willingly treat you with the deference due to fair sex. But your type is a different matter."

"You seem so sure you know what my type is!"

"Of course. I've found them everywhere—Monte, Vegas, wherever the big money is. Like bees around a honeypot, they use every feminine wile at their disposal to part men from their money. The helpless innocent is just one variation on the theme."

"I suppose it's no use telling you I'm not one of your bees?"

He shook his head. "None at all."

"Well, I'm not. I loved Damon, even though I wonder now if I ever really knew him. But I swear I knew nothing of his gambling habits until now. If my little girl ever found out, it would break her heart."

The piercing eyes narrowed. "And for her sake you're going to beg me to keep your secret. Is that it?"

Tears glistened in Caroline's eyes, but she blinked them away. "No, I'm not going to beg you, Mr Mikaelson. I've come to make a deal with you."

He laughed, a cruel harsh sound without warmth. In a way, it is more chilling than the way he had undressed her with his eyes at their first meeting. "This I have to hear!" Hoped surged anew in Caroline's heart, but before she could say more, he had a hand under her elbow and was lifting her to her feet. "Not here," he said over her protests. "This promises to be entertaining enough it worth buying you lunch."

At any other time she would have revelled in the unaccustomed luxury as they were ushered to a table set apart from the others in a curtained alcove. The menu that was placed in her hands by the obsequious maître d'hotel seemed to go on for pages, but her thoughts were in such a whirl she couldn't focus on the printed words.

"What, no lobster?" he asked, the mocking tone back in his voice. For a moment, Caroline panicked. Was this come sort of cruel test to see whether she really was an innocent in this glistening world? She half rose, intending to run from the room, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. "Relax, Caroline Salvatore, you aren't being tested." Could he read her mind, too? "I really do want to hear what you have to say."

So he was going to admit more evidence after all. Caroline sighed aloud with relief and allowed herself to relax a little. A waiter materialised beside them and Klaus ordered for them both. As they waited for the food to arrive, he studied her in silence until she could stand it no longer. "Stop looking at me like that!" she exclaimed.

He chuckled and it emerged as a throaty animal sound that sent goose-bumps across the back of her neck. "Like what?"

"Like…like I'm some sort of cattle at a saleyard!"

He smiled lazily and rested his chin on one hand. "No, that's now how I would have put it at all. I was simply trying to analyse you—you intrigue me."

"For a crook and a swindler, you mean?"

"Ah, so the lady does have some spirit, as I suspected. No, it's just that you're so unlike the way I imagined you when I first found our who Damon Salvatore's wife was."

In spite of herself, she couldn't resist asking. "And just how did you imagine me?"

"Oh, much tougher, certainly, and more worldly. Unless of course, you're a consummate actress." She was about to protest when he concluded. "Which I'm beginning to doubt." He grinned cheekily, flashing luminous eyes to her.

Caroline felt momentarily hypnotised and realised to her amazement that she was instinctively leaning towards him. She guessed that he was aware of the movement and seemed to accept it as his due. No doubt a great many women had paid homage to Klaus Mikaelson in that and other ways. Self-consciously, she straightened and braced her back against the upholstered seat. "I wish you'd make up your mind," she said irritably, but whether it was because of his attitude or her own reaction to it, she wasn't quite sure.

He laughed delightedly. "There it is again, that fascinating tough of fire you have! You want it all, don't you, Caroline?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean life and love. There's something about you which tells me you hunger for the cream of life's experiences, although you probably won't admit it even to yourself. But it's there, I can sense it./"

It was such a presumptuous remark that she lashed out automatically. She was uncomfortably aware that he had plumbed her depths in a way no one else had done in her life before. "So now you're telepathic as well as omnipotent, is that it?" she demanded angrily.

"Touched a nerve then, did I?" She stared determinedly ahead, afraid to meet his eyes or say anything for the fear of revealing just how right he was. She wondered fleetingly what she got herself into by coming to see him. Being in the same room with him seemed to require a kind of shockproof resilience she was afraid she didn't possess. In the face of his overwhelming confidence, positive nature and disarming way of looking at her, she felt curiously drained of strength, like a piece of seaweed being carried on the tide of his personality.

She was sure he knew exactly the effect he was having and it made her all the more determined to say what she must and make her escape as quickly as possible. But it was not going to be as simple as that. Whenever she tried to return to the reason for her visit, Klaus refused to listen to a word.

"I'm much too fond of oysters au naturel to let business get in the way," he observed when she tried to broach the subject over the first course. "Besides, I'd rather get to know you a little better first."

She stared at him in astonishment. "What possible difference could knowing me better make?"

For answer, he reached across the snowy white cloth and rested a hand lightly on her wrist so that her fingers fluttered weakly under his like imprisoned butterflies. She was sure he must feel the erratic throbbing of her pulse under his hand. "It could make a lot of difference," he said softly but with that hint of steel she was coming to expect in his voice. "You see, I still haven't made up my mind whether I should make you pay for cheating me." As he said this, his fingers tightened around her wrist like a shackle. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but his hold was inexorable. Her eyes leapt to his face in mute appeal, but it seemed like an eternity before he released her and returned to his own side of the table.

Caroline resisted a strong temptation to massage her wrist which felt burned as if by a rope, although his hold had hardly been tight enough to do a physical damage. Luckily the waiter arrived then with their main course, giving her a blessed respite in which to recover her poise.

Klaus's choice had been a veal dish in some exotic sauce, and the waiter proceeded to serve her from a silver platter. The dish was accompanied by a fresh green salad and steaming hot bread rolls. Although at the start of the meal Caroline had been sure she could not eat a thing, she found to her surprise that she had developed an appetite.

While they ate, Klaus made a good promise to get to know her better. He probed so skilfully into her background, hopes and dreams that she had no sense of being interrogated. Without quite knowing why, she found herself telling him things about her life that she had only ever shared with Damon in the past. In between sips of the excellence wine, she told him about her arrival in New York as a naïve young woman from Atlanta, and her disappointment that there were no cultural shows along the streets. She also spoke of her dreams for her adopted country, with its welcoming sunshine and bright promise for the future, for those who were prepared to work and strive. As she talked, she was totally unaware of the captivating picture she presented as her expression changed from dreamy to enthusiastic by turns, nor of the thoughtful way in which Klaus was studying her. Suddenly, she realised that she was doing all the talking and, flustered, she tailed off in mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily, "I didn't mean to bore you with my life history."

"Good God!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You're actually blushing!"

"Please, I said, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I enjoyed listening to you. I think I've discovered a few surprising things about you in the last hour." For the first time, she felt the disturbing warmth of his smile directed towards her without any malice or mockery. It was an extraordinary sensation, like being bathed in sunshine, and she had to fight a temptation to turn her face towards him and bask in the pleasant glow.

Instead, she concentrated fiercely on her coffee cup. "Have you discovered enough to believe me?"

He studied her long and hard, the diamond-bright gaze seemingly to reach her very depths. "I'll need a lot more proof before I can answer that," he said at last. "Let's just say that I'm now prepared to reserve judgement. After all, your husband made fools of my staff, and that's not something I'm prepared to take lightly."

"That's what I must talk to you about," she said at once, before her limited store of courage deserted her. "To tell you that I plan to repay every cent that Damon owed you."

He laughed explosively. "Now, love. Just how do you plan on doing that? Not," he added quickly, "that I shall allow it. As you see, I hardly need the money."

"I have to convince you that I was not involved in Damon's activities and the only way is to clear his debt to you. I was hoping…" she swallowed convulsively, "I was hoping you would give me a job so I could earn the money."

"At that rate, it would take you some time to pay it off. What if I told you I could be persuaded of your innocence after all?"

"It would make no difference. Until I know the debt is paid I'd feel we were at your mercy, and I can't take that risk with my daughter's happiness. Will you give me a job?"

He regarded her for a long moment. "What sort of work can you do?"

"Before I married, I did a little typing, some sales work, not much really. But I'm sure I can learn, given the chance."

His eyes sparkled with amusement and she knew he was playing her like a fish on a line. "I don't really need any more staff right now." So that was it, hooked and landed. "Except…but you wouldn't take that on."

"Take what on. I'll do anything."

The mocking eyebrows rose again. "The only real vacancy at Mikaelson International at present is that of my wife."

Caroline gasped. This was hardly the offer she had expected. "Be serious!" she expostulated.

"I'm perfectly serious. You said you'd anything. Would you take a job as my wife? I frequently need a hostess at business functions, and it would be pleasant to have a travelling companion when I go overseas or interstate."

Caroline's head was spinning, whether with the wine or the unexpectedness of the offer, she wasn't sure. She felt as if she stood on the edge of an abyss with this man at her back who could either push her over or pull her back to safety. Then she understood. He was testing her after all. After her rashly saying she would do anything to repay the debt, he was offering her an impossible job knowing she must refuse and prove everything he said about her "type" was true. Well, she would surprise him yet. Lifting her head high, she faced him across the table. "I accept the job, Mr Mikaelson."

His eyes locked with hers and she had the unshakeable impression she was drowning in the fathomless depths. At any moment now he would smile and say she had won. Instead, he broke the spell by snapping his fingers to summon the maître d'hotel. He whispered something in the man's ear and she saw the waiter's eyes light up with surprise. The man nodded and hurried away, returning with a bottle of champagne which he popped noisily at the table, poruing the foaming liquid into their glasses. Then he placed a portable microphone in front of Klaus, who stood up. Heads were already turning their way as the cork popped and now everyone was looking at them.

To her horror, Klaus lifted Caroline to her feet beside him and her face flamed as she met the curious stares of the other diners. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Just sealing the bargain," he said equably, then turned to the waiting crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want you all to be the first to know that I've just become engaged. Meet my bride-to-be, Caroline Salvatore."

Bonnie's reaction was one of shocked disbelief. "You're going to do what?"

"I'm going to marry Klaus Mikaelson."

Bonnie took both of her hands and regarded her steadily. "Listen, love, if this brute is blackmailing you, no matter how rich and powerful he is, I'll…"

"No, I swear it isn't anything like that," Caroline said quickly. "It's just…well, he proposed and I accepted. It's as simple as that."

Yet even as she tried to convince Bonnie, Caroline knew it was not simple at all. She was not even sure herself why she accepted Klaus's proposal so readily. Logic told her it was the one sure way of securing Candice's future and guaranteeing Klaus's silence. But was it all logic and sacrifice? She found it hard to deny the strange attraction Klaus held for her. It was as compelling and dangerous as the attraction certain female wolves hold for their mates. Even though instinct warned the male wolf that it would be devoured as soon as the lovemaking was over, the attraction was too strong to resist. She shuddered at the likelihood that she would be the one devouring by her mate yet, like the poor wolf, she still felt herself being drawn inexorable into Klaus.

Determinedly, she shook herself free of the fantastic picture of her imagination was conjuring up and asked Bonnie if she would be the maid of honour.

"I don't know, Care. Klaus Mikaelson is way outside my league."

It took all Caroline's earnest pleas to wear down her resistance. "Alright, Care," she said at last, "but I'm only doing it for you. Jeremy isn't going to be at all happy about this, but wouldn't want either of us to stand in your way if it's what you really want."

She couldn't know it, but Bonnie's misgivings paled into insignificance beside Caroline's own. Although she put on a brave front for everyone, especially for Candice who thought the whole thing was like something out of a fairytale, inside, she felt nothing but trepidation. Bonnie was right, of course, Klaus Mikaelson was outside her league, both physically and financially. His singlemindedness and determination awed her. If she had thought to throw him off stride by accepting his proposal of marriage, she was gravely mistaken. He simply added her to his seemingly endless list of possessions and set out to remake her until she suited his idea of what a Mikaelson bride should be. In the hectic days before the wedding date set by Klaus, she began to feel as if she was paying Damon's debt with her soul.

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**So…what do you guys think? Hayley is Klaus's secretary. Ooo I hate that b!tch! Nothing is good when she's around. Still hate the fact that she's pregnant with Klaus's baby!**

**Till next time x**


	3. Chapter 3

Happy Chinese New Year, for those who celebrated! Sorry for the late update, I was celebrating my new year! :D Thank you for the amazing reviews too! Oh, and did you guys watch the latest TVD and TO?! Gosh, I just hate how JP tried to kill characters or change the whole storyline! Her mind is friggin' complicated! Anyhow, klaroline endgameeeee! Oh, and there's a petition going on for klaroline, did you guys vote?

By the way, on to the reading—

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KLAUS started by insisting that she move into his penthouse until the wedding.

"I'd rather stay in my own home until—we're married," Caroline protested haltingly.

"And what will you tell the press when they track you down?" he demanded. "Oh yes, they will. The hounds were already on the scent as soon as word of our engagement got around. "New York biggest tycoon to marry penniless widow—it's all very romantic, you know."

"But we haven't done anything wrong," she said in a small voice, knowing what his answer would be as soon as she said it.

"No—we haven't," he drawled with deadly emphasis. "But imagine what they'd make of the rest of the story. Here at least, you'll be out of their reach."

She should have known it was useless to argue with him. She wasn't even allowed to return home to pack. Klaus dispatched his staff to take care of that. It was something she would have to get used to, she supposed, having all these people to look after her and Candice. Yet, she wandered around the huge apartment, she felt more like a prisoner than the mistress-elect of all this luxury. Since Klaus used the apartment only for his occasional overnight or weekend stays, preferring his house on Upper East Side as a permanent address, he kept only daily help to maintain the penthouse. Now, with Candice at school and no one else around, Caroline felt achingly lonely and wondered if marriage to Klaus would always be like this.

Moodily, she curled herself up on the couch and began leafing through a magazine. The sound of a key turning in the lock startled her and she looked up to see Klaus coming in, his arms filled with boxes and parcels which he dumped on the seat beside her.

"Get that off," he ordered, tugging at the cotton dress she was wearing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. No wife of mine is going to be seen in home-made dresses like some charity case."

"There's no need to be insulting," she responded stiffly, making no move to get up.

He came closer. "So you're not going to take that awful dress off?" She shook her head. In a blindingly swift movement he gripped the neckline of the dress and gave it a vicious tug. The thin material parted easily and Caroline gave a gasp of alarm as it ripped in two from neck to knee. "Now you don't have a choice, do you?"

Shivering with reaction, Caroline gathered the remains of her dress around her. For a fleeting moment she debated the wisdom of challenging him, and then conceded that he was right. She didn't have a choice. Even if she put on another of her own dresses there was nothing to stop him destroying them all. She shot him a venomous look which he studiously ignored, then she stood up, holding the torn dress closed with one hand and reached for the nearest of the parcels.

"That's more like it." With a smile of triumph, Klaus retreated to a chair across the room and settled back to watch her dress.

She was acutely conscious of his eyes on her as she slid the torn dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. If only she had worn an underslip for once, it would have protected her from his scrutiny. Now it was too late and there was not a thing she could do to stop him looking his fill. Conscious of the brevity of her bikini underclothes and how much they revealed to him, she tore open the parcel.

Despite her shimmering fury, she was forced to admit he had excellent taste and was a perfect judge of her size. Probably had plenty of practice, she thought spitefully, still smarting from his easy victory over her. It wouldn't always be so easy, she promised herself as she slid into the dress. It was a silk sheath in ocean blue and the sleek lines skimmed her body flatteringly. The plunding cross-over bodice thrust her full breasts forward and made them look even more voluptuous, she thought self-consciously. As she reached awkwardly behind her to try to close the back fastening, Klaus came up behind her and reached for the zipper.

"I can manage," she said crossly, wishing her heart would stop its infernal pounding whenever he came within two yards of her.

"I didn't ask whether you could," he said as he slid the zipper shut, then turned her to face him. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he must hear it as he pressed her against him. She tried to struggle free, but his grip was like iron and his fingers scorched her shoulders with a touch that sent jolts like electricity surging through her body. "Why so anxious to escape?" he asked softly. "You weren't so eager to be off when I proposed to you."

"You know perfectly well why I agreed to marry you," she said huskily. "If I had any other way of paying you back, believe me I would."

"Are you quite sure it's only the debt?" he murmured pushing the fabric of the dress down off one shoulder, exposing the creamy flesh so he could press his lips against it.

She moaned softly as, almost of their own volition, her arms crept up to twine themselves around him. His lips found the follow of her throat and despite herself, he body arched towards him as his kisses travelled to the cleft between her breasts. Abruptly, sanity returned and she pushed him away fiercely. "Stop it, Klaus!"

He frowned. "Why? It's what you've wanted ever since we met—admitit!"

"Of course it's not what I want!" she flung at him, standing with her legs apart and her hands clenched at her sides like a wild animal cornered by a predator. "What sort of woman do you think I am?"

He laughed derisively. "I thought we'd established that. You've already proved you're willing to pay your husband's debts with your body, so why should it matter if I claim my payment now, or after we've gone through some meaningless ceremony?"

"You're hateful!" she snapped. "I must have been mad to agree to marry you!" But there's still time, a small voice inside reminded her. You can take Candice and get away from here, anywhere that Klaus Mikaelson can't find you.

As if he read her thoughts, he smiled grimly, and his eyes flashed a warning. "But you did agree, and it's too late to back out now. My staffs are under orders to keep a careful eye on you until after the ceremony."

Something in the way he said this warned Caroline that from now on, she would be under constant surveillance with no opportunity to change her mind before the wedding. Whether she liked it or not, she would have to go through with it.

He threw another package at her which she caught in nerveless fingers. "Your wedding dress—put it on."

Once more she was forced to go through the humiliating ritual of shedding her clothes while he watched, amusement and appreciation chasing each other across his even features.

"You shouldn't be buying me all these clothes," she protested in a feeble attempt to distract him. "You're only putting me further into your debt."

He shrugged. "Call them a working uniform if you please. It wouldn't do my reputation any good to have my wife seen in home-made cotton dresses. Believe it or not, it could start rumours that would eventually affect the stock market."

That he was only protecting his image and the value of his shares was a blow to her self-confidence, but she consoled herself with the thought that it was better so. As he had already shown, their marriage was going to have complications enough without sentiment clouding it still further.

Involuntarily, she gasped as she drew the wedding dress out of its tissue covering. It was the most enchanting gown she had ever seen in her life. The dress was a simple tube of softly draping crepe jersey in the palest coffee colour with tiny shoestring straps and a sheer silk tulle overlay in toning polka dots. There was no veil, only a garland of coffee and cream silk flowers exquisitely fashioned on to a velvet headband.

Reverently, she put it on, swathing the tulle overlay around herself like a cloud. Suddenly she felt cold and empty inside. This dress was deserving of a woman in love, not a charlatan who was mocking the very idea. To her chagrin, tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of how different it might have been.

"What in blazes are you crying for?" Klaus demanded roughly. He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her eyes upward to lock with his. "Don't you like the dress?—we'll get another."

"No, it isn't that," Caroline said dully, knowing she could never make a man like him understand.

"Then get dressed and I'll take you out to lunch," he ordered.

Sadly, no longer concerned if his eyes were on her, she slipped out of the magical gown and folded it reverently back into its container. Since Klaus had ruined her own dress, she had no choice but to put on one of his purchases. The first one to hand was a simple little white moire sundress. It was a beautiful creation and had probably cost a fortune but at that moment she was so weighed down with sadness that she couldn't care if it was made of sackcloth.

"For goodness sake, cheer up," Klaus ordered brusquely. "Do you want all America to think I'm dragging you to the altar?"

"Well, aren't you?" she retorted, then wished she had held her tongue as she saw his face darken.

He reached out and caught her by both wrists, then pulled her hard against him. "Watch your tone," he cautioned, "or you'll regret it, I promise!" His expression warned her that he meant what he said. "You came to me, remember that, and you agreed to marry me of your own free will."

"It was that or have my daughter's life ruined," she hissed, and immediately wished she could bite back the words. For a moment, she was sure he was going to hit her. But instead he bent his head and imprisoned her lips under his with savage intensity, fiving the kiss all the violence of a physical blow. She struggled to free herself, then was captured by the tide of emotion that threatened to drown her as his kiss became more ardent. She was powerless to resist as he forced her lips apart and found the inside of her mouth, taking possession of her. She felt his lips grinding against her teeth and tasted salty blood—his or her own, she could not be sure. At last he thrust her away from him so that she fell on the couch where she lay breathing hard. She was thankful that her legs did not have to support her, for she was not at all sure that they could.

"Next time you're tempted to ccross me, that will remind you which of us is the stronger," he said—as if she could forget it after such a convincing lesson. "Now go and get ready before I decide you need even more proof."

Shaking, Caroline flew past him to the bathroom where she closed the door and bolted it with trembling fingers, then leaned back against the cool paintwork and willed her heart to stop its painful hammering. The man was a devil who could drive her to agony and then ecstasy at his will. She had never wronged him, whatever he chose to believe, yet she was apparently to be punished by being made a slave to his whims.

"What's taking you so long?" he demanded, rattling the door handle.

"C-coming," she managed to stammer, and moved swiftly to the vanity to repair her ravaged make-up. Unbelievably, the face that greeted her in the mirror showed no sign of her inner turmoil. Her hair was a different matter, and she tugged fruitlessly at the tangle of unruly curls before giving up, sure that if she delayed too long he would not hesitate to break the door lock.

He was leaning against the wall outside when she emerged and appraised her from head to foot with cool insolence. "Mmm, very nice, but something's missing. Come here."

Warily, she moved closer, but he merely reached into a huge flower arrangement on a side table, plucked a purple orchid from it and pinned the lovely flower to her dress with debt movements. "There's that's better. Now which will it be—Nino's for an Italian lunch, or the Pavilion?"

"It doesn't matter, I'm not very hungry." She was surprised that he should even trouble to ask her for an opinion after the morning's demonstration. Klaus shrugged and took her arm, leading her to the elevator which took them down to the street.

Although she wouldn't dream of admitting it, Caroline was relieved when Klaus chose the Pavilion. Right now, the lively atmosphere of Nino's was more than she could bear. It took them only minutes to cover the short distance between NOLA Hotel and the restaurant, but she could soon feel a trickle of perspiration wending its way between her shoulder blades, so the dim of coolness the Pavilion was a welcome relief. The room Klaus led her to was decorated to look like an outdoor terrace, although it was completely enclosed and blissfully air-conditioned. A pergola had been built just under the green tinted fibreglass roof and over it twined a profusion of leafy vines. The tables and chairs were of white-painted wrought iron with huge tubs of bamboo turning each one into a private oasis. To one of these, Klaus guided her. As he solicitously pulled out her chair and signalled a waiter to hand her a menu, she reflected that whatever else she might think of him, he certainly wasn't lacking in the social graces.

"What are you going to have, love?"

"Really, I don't think I could eat a thing."

"Rubbish, there's little enough of you now, so you'd better have something."

No wife of mine is going to look as if I can't afford to feed her, Caroline thought mutinously, not caring whether the thought was unfair or not. But he had already ordered for them both.

When the barramundi and salad he had selected arrived, she toyed with the fish and all but choked on the morsel she tried to swallow. Klaus thumped her mercilessly on the back and she squealed with pain and surprise. "You brute!"

"I couldn't very well sit here and allow you to choke, now could I?" he responded mildly.

"But you didn't have to hit so hard!"

"Consider it another lesson, then."

Tears welled in her eyes as she recalled the first 'lesson' at the penthouse, and angrily she brushed them away. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Doing what?"

"You know perfectly well you don't want to marry me. If you're so convinced I was Damon' accomplice in swindling you, why not just hand me over to the police and be done with it?"

He put down his fork and regarded her steadily, his eyes bright with amusement. He looked, she thought, like a cat playing with a mouse it is not yet ready to eat. "Firstly, I do want to marry you—for all the reasons I already gave you—you'll be useful as a hostess and travelling companion, as well as highly decorative to have on my arm. But I'm sure you're quite aware of your—er—attributes in that direction. As to the rest, I don't have enough concrete evidence to be sure of a conviction in a court. Besides which, it would be a pity to see someone so disturbingly attractive languishing behind bars. By keeping you under my eye I can punish you far more thoroughly myself if need be. At least once, you're my wife, I can be sure you won't skip off interstate or overseas before I can settle the matter one way or the other."

"One way or the other? Then you're prepared to admit I could just possibly be innocent?"

"Innocent?" His tone managed to give the word a disturbing sensual inference. As he studied her across the table, she knew he was referring to the way her body had betrayed her to him that morning. Under his frank appraisal, she felt as if her protective layer of clothing was melting away until she sat before him naked and vulnerable. She flushed scarlet and looked quickly down at her plate. His point made, Klaus relented. "However, I do admit you could be—innocent—of the swindling charges. When we're married, I'll have all the time I need to find out."

After that, the days melted into one another with alarming swiftness under Caroline felt as though she was caught on a merry-go-round which never slowed down for a second. By the time her wedding day arrived she felt utterly drained.

"Cheer up, Caroline, you look as if you're going to a wake instead of a wedding!"

"Oh, Tyler, it's you!" She jumped as Tyler Lockwood, Klaus's personal assistant, came in behind her. It was true, she thought miserably as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Even the magnificent gown could not compensate for the fact that her face was chalk white and her eyes were smudged from lack of sleep. She made an effort to smile at Tyler. After all, the young man had shown nothing but friendliness towards her since she had moved into the penthouse. When they were first introduced, she learned that Tyler was responsible for the smooth running of the NOLA Hotel and even took over the management of the casino for Klaus on occasions. However, he didn't mind at all being asked to look after his employer's lovely bride-to-be in addition to his other duties and he said as much to Caroline when they met. He was also very fond of Candice and fussed over the little girl, showering her with gifts and treats until Caroline feared she would become spoiled. But he could be just as firm when the occasion demanded, so she quickly learned to trust his judgement. For her part, Candice developed a strong attachment to the young man, something she rarely did with strangers. It warmed Caroline, yet worried her because inside, she knew there was no lasting love between her and Klaus, so there could be only heartache in store for Candice is she became too emotionally involved with any of this.

As if on cue, the object of her concern came tearing into the room. In her ruffled pink floor-length dress, Candice looked deceptively angelic. She paused long enough to let Tyler ruffle her hair, then hurtled herself at her mother.

For the first time that day, Caroline laughed aloud as she held the struggling bundle of humanity at arm's length. "You look lovely, imp."

"Do I really? Kat says our dresses are sissy, but I think mine's gorgeous!"

So much for young friendship! "Never mind what Kat says," Caroline said firmly. "You two are going to be the stars of the occasion today."

Candice frowned at this. "No, we won't," she countered. "We're just the flowergirls. You have to be the star—you look like a star, dressed like that." She paused, deep in thought, then her face lit up. "But your face is all white. Why don't you put some of your pink stuff on?"

Tyler laughed. "Seven years old and already she's a make-up expert!"

Ruefully, Caroline was forced to agree that Candice was right. She did look more like a ghost than the traditional image of a radiant bride. Reluctantly, she reached for the jars of make-up littering the dress table. She had always been blessed with flawless skin and more than one man had paid homage to her 'peaches and cream' American complexion, so she never felt a need to use more than a trace of lipstick and sometimes eye-shadow for special occasions—fortunate, as it turned out, because cosmetics became a luxury after Damon died. However, when Klaus found out she owned no make-up he insisted on showering her with the entire range from one of the most famous bottles here than she could use in a lifetime! Now, however, she was glad that she had all the tricks of the cosmetician's trade at her fingertips. Perhaps it would make up for her own lack of colour and vivacity. She would hate it if everyone knew how she really felt.

Deftly, she applied a honey-toned foundation that added a glow to her pale skin, following it with the merest dusting of powder and some of the 'pink stuff' prescribed by Candice. At once the blusher gave her cheeks a becoming, if wholly artificial, look of vitality. She finished with a rim of smoky colour around her eyes and was relieved to see that the colour turned the shadows into artful frames for her already luminous cornflower blue eyes. A dash of warm-toned lipstick completed the effect and she turned to Candice and Tyler. "Better?"

"Much better," they chorused.

"Oh, before I forget, I came up to give you this," said Tyler, holding out a florist's box. "Klaus asked me to deliver it."

Inside was a corsage of palest yellow orchids. Tyler offered to help in the flower onto her dress and as she let him, Caroline reflected how appropriate Klaus's choice was. Orchids—so beautiful to the eye, yet so disappointingly lacking in fragrance. Like their marriage in which all the beauty was for outward show only. Tyler stepped back to admire the effect and she summoned up a smile to go with the mask which was now much closer to the image she was supposed to project. It would worry Bonnie and Jeremy, she knew, if they suspected she was unhappy. She also knew Jeremy well enough to know he would tackle Klaus physically if necessary, despite the unevenness of the match, if he discovered Klaus was forcing her into marriage.

Klaus was waiting for her when the car drew up in the Botanical Garden. He had been surprised at first when she said she didn't want a church wedding, but for once he respected her wishes. She was relieved to know the pretence of theirs being anything like 'holy wedlock' would not have to be carried to the point of sacrilege.

Whatever their reasons for choosing this setting, she had to admit the Botanical Garden was one of the loveliest places in New York and she was glad Klaus had been able to ger permission for them to be married here. She often walked around its spreading acres and luxuriated in the profusion giant tress and rare tropical plants, the cool lily ponds and sweeping lawns which made this an oasis in the tropical north. Perhaps, she thought, there lush gardens reminded her of her home country, Atlanta. Whatever the reason, she was always drawn to them as a haven of peace and serenity.

Now, as so often before, the surroundings calmed and cheered her as she approached the knot of people waiting under the rustling palm trees. She was grateful Klaus had risked the wrath of the New York social set and invited only a handful of people to the ceremony. His parents lived in England and his father's doctor had advised him not to make the journey, while what family Caroline possessed were far away in Atlanta, and she felt she could not have borne the scrutiny of hordes of total strangers. Tourists and visitors to the park drifted towards them but most retreated to a respectful distance when they realised it was a private occasion.

Klaus was accompanied by four business associates Caroline knew only slightly. They were all dressed similarly in 'New York rig' of white shirts, jacket, dark bow ties and slacks, and stayed huddled together looking uncomfortable. As he chatted to them, Klaus looked disturbingly handsome in a snowy white suit which was impeccably tailored to hug his powerful frame. The jacket was open at the neck and Caroline noticed that he wore his necklaces. The bundle of necklaces around his neck distracted her with reminders of his masculinity and how easily it could overwhelm her when he exerted it. He became aware of her covert appraisal and smile lazily as if he was aware of her thoughts. "Later," his expression seemed to suggest, and she shivered, remembering his earlier warning that he intended her to be his wife in every way—not just in name only. Until now, she had succeeded in banishing this thought from her mind, but now she was forced to face the fact that, in a few short minutes, she would be his, sharing his bed and his life for better, for worse.

"How's the bride feeling?" asked a voice at her elbow, and she turned to find Jeremy standing behind her, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

"Oh, Jer, you startled me! I'm fine, thanks."

"You sure about that? There's still time to change your mind."

She looked away, unable to meet his challenging graze. "Why should I want to change my mind?"

He shrugged. "Only you can answer that one, Care. I just hope you know what you're doing."

Bonnie came up to join them and gave Caroline's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You've got a nice day for this. And you do look wonderful, even if you are a bit pale around the edges."

"Does it show?" Caroline asked in alarm, and was relieved when Bonnie shook her head.

"Only to us, love, but then we've known you a long time."

There was a flurry of activity at the roadway as another car drew up. The door opened and Hayley Marshall stepped out. "Uh-oh, here comes trouble," Bonnie murmured as Klaus's secretary came towards them, plastic smile fixed on her even features. "In that gown, you'd think she was the bride."

"She looks like a Barbie doll," Jeremy murmured.

But Jeremy's derisive comment couldn't stop a chill settling over Caroline as she realised that Heyley had, indeed set out to overshadow the bride. She wore a stunning creation of white chiffon and a lade headdress that was all too suggestive of a view. Watching her approach, Caroline felt her throat go dry and she swallowed hard.

"Why, Caroline, you look simply marvellous!" Hayley gushed, and held out an elegantly manicured hand.

"Thank you," Caroline murmured stiffly, but before she could say any more an usher bustled up and started showing them to their places. Importantly, he hurried Hayley to the front and told her to stand on Klaus's left.

"Look at that bitch, why doesn't she say something?" Jeremy muttered angrily. He looked at Caroline curiously as she stood mutely beside him. If only they knew how much she wished Klaus _was_ marrying his secretary…

"Wrong bride, I'm afraid," Klaus said at last, looking amused at the mix up. Hayley looked anything but amused and the look of hatred she gave Caroline left her in no doubt that she had worn white deliberately. Caroline wished she could tell the other girl that she would willingly trade places, and any arrangement she already had with Klaus would probably continue uninterrupted. She had no illusions that Klaus would let a little thing like a wife get in the way of his desires.

"Relax, this isn't fatal," Klaus whispered when she was finally settled on his arm with the witness and the few guests in the rows of chairs set up on the lawn behind them. Then the marriage celebrant was approaching them with a well-rehearsed quip and smile.

As Caroline stood at his side, the scene blurred before her eyes. The green of grass and trees merged with the vivid cerulean of the sky and she had the weird sensation that she was looking at it all through a kaleidoscope. The only points of stability on her horizon were the dark suit of the marriage celebrant and Klaus's firm grip on her arm. She clung to him and once or twice he looked at her curiously as she swayed like a pandanus palm in a breeze.

Do you take this man…  
To have and to hold…  
For better for worse…  
Suddenly, the man at her side was Damon and she was in a little white stone church with yellow light shining into her eyes from a stained glass window overhead. The words were the same and she was repeating them softly, her choked voice barely audible. The man beside her was making his responses, but his voice was clear and confident. That first time was Damon at her side—it had been so beautiful, so perfect. Why did it have to end this way?

"You may kiss the bride."

As Klaus bent towards her the white church vanished and she was back in the Garden once more. She stiffened recalling the last time Klaus had kissed her, but his mouth was already claiming hers in a fiery kiss that was if possible, more possessive than the last time. She willed her body not to respond, but it was like telling the wind to stop blowing. She felt a tremor of excitement surge through her body and she could do nothing but surrender to his demanding lips.

His eyes were full of question marks as he drew away from her at last, and Caroline trembled with the ferocity of her unwilling response. Would it always be like this all her will to resist destroyed by her desire for Klaus that attracted her and repelled her at the same time?

Mechanically, she signed the register and part of her achingly aware that she was writing Damon's name for the last time. Then it was Klaus's turn, and before she knew what was happening the photographer herded them into groups and flashlights exploded in front of their eyes. The reception at the NOLA passed in the same dreamlike way, and Caroline gave automatic responses to the kisses and congratulations she was offered.

Then came the moment she dreaded when she must leave Candice and go off with Klaus on their honeymoon. She clung to Candice for a long moment before Bonnie gently prised them apart and sent the little girl to join her young friend, Kat, waiting in the car. "She'll be fine with me, Care," she promised.

Tearfully, Caroline watched her go, then exchanged a quick brotherly hug with Jeremy, who turned away, his eyes troubled. Finally, Bonnie enveloped her in a bear-hug that took her breath away. "Be happy," she whispered in Caroline's ear. "And remember, if you ever need us…for anything…"

"I know, and thanks—for everything," Caroline responded hoarsely. "Look after Candice for me. And don't worry, I can take care of myself."

But as she settled into the car beside Klaus—her husband—she knew she was not nearly as sure of that as she tried to sound.

* * *

Thank you for reading! :D the next chapter will be about their honeymoon, stay tuned! and like I have mentioned before, there will not be Kol, Rebekah, Katherine, Elijah, Elena, Stefan, Matt etc.. in the story.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! :D First and foremost, thank you so much for reviewing! Just so you know, your reviews are my breakfast! And I'm really sorry it got you guys so worked out! So it seems I've got some explanation to do.

Yes, we are to root for klaroline! Hello, klaroline endgameeeeee! 3 I know it's painful to read, with all those abuses and rude exchanges going on but please bear with me till the ennnnnd! Klaus ain't no saint! He's a casino tycoon! People ARE scared of him! Messing with his casino equals to messing with him! I've learnt it from the old series Las Vegas starring Josh Duhamel and Molly Sims. But there's always a soft side, everyone has a soft side.

Yes, Klaus is an ass but we all love it! :D

There will be Candice and Klaus interaction, but not this chapter. This chapter is all about the honeymoon.

Just to make myself clear, I've done the whole story so I understand why you guys hate me! It's going to be painful to read, **especially this chapter**! So please don't hate me for it, I promise you a very good ending.

Anyway, moving on to the story…

* * *

THEY stopped at the penthouse long enough for Caroline to change and collect her luggage which stood packed and waiting near the door. Klaus's luggage was already in the car and his travelling clothes were set out in the bedroom next to hers. Tensely, she listened to the small rustle of sounds which indicated that he was getting dressed, but he did not come near her or even speak until she was dressed. Her going-away outfit consisted of a white sundress, sprigged with yellow daisies. A floppy white picture hat completed the outfit, and surveying in the mirror, Caroline saw that she looked astonishingly young and vulnerable, although at that moment she was in no mood to appreciate her appearance. She was too preoccupied with the turmoil seething within her.

"Ready to leave?"

She nodded, but thought at the same time that she would never be truly ready. However, she was prepared to go with him. In silence, she followed him down to the basement garage.

It was the first time she had travelled in a Range Rover. She settled in the luxurious passenger seat, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland as she surveyed the complex gadgetry with which the vehicle was equipped. As soon as they were out of the city and driving down the track, as the main road out of New York was known, Klaus turned on the air-conditioning and its soft whisper was the only sound between them as the miles vanished under their wheels.

"Where are we going?" Caroline asked at last.

"I wondered when you'd get curious," Klaus responded. "I've leased a cabin on the border of Ontario."

She looked at him in alarm. "Ontario? But I thought white people weren't allowed to go there."

"It is an Aboriginal reserve," he agreed, "but Toronto, where we're going, is just on the northwestern shore of Lake Ontario. It is very isolated and wild, just the sort of place a honeymoon couple would choose to get to know each other."

Pensively Caroline wrapped her arms around herself and stared straight ahead as the road snaked endlessly into the distance. After a couple of attempts with no response, Klaus gave up trying to start a conversation with her and gave all his attention to the road. After a time, they swung off to the left on to the Yonge Street, where Klaus pointed out Montgomery's Tavern in the distance. She reminded him a little stiffly that she hadn't lived in America for so long without hearing the story of the battle.

He broke off his guided tour and studied her sidelong. As she stared determinedly ahead she could feel his eyes on her. Self-consciously, she tugged at the sundress, aware of how much of pale flesh it exposed. "Why did the battle start?" she asked quickly, anxious to divert him from his obvious train of thought.

She was quite sure he was aware of her strategy but obligingly continued his lecture, then he seemed to become absorbed in it, because he did not look at her again in that disturbing way. "Oh—look, pied geese! There's a flock just coming in to land."

He strectched out a lean arm and Caroline was distracted by an awareness of the strength in it. She had to resist a strange compulsion to run her hand along the corded muscles and trace the blue veins visible near the surface of his skin. "You're not looking," he commented.

She shook herself free of the foolish thought and followed the line of his arm to where she could see thick clouds of wild birds lingering in the shallow waters.

"Oh, there's a jabiru!" she cried in delight, watching the graceful long-legged bird wading in the shallows. Now and then it dipped its beak into the water to extract some choice morsel of food. There was something timeless and magical about the picture it made, she thought. Too bad the birds would not stay once the water was gone—it had already started to evaporate in the heat of the Summer. Soon, the birds would seek out their favourite billabongs while this land cracked and scorched under the merciless sun. oh well, they would be back with the next Spring.

Without warning, the bitumen petered out into red sand and Caroline understood why Klaus had elected to bring the four-wheel-drive. No other vehicle could have coped so easily with the corrugated track which would ahead of them through the featureless bush.

She shot Klaus a curious glance. As master of the NOLA complex he had seemed the archetypal city dweller, urbane, suave and totally in his element. Yet he seemed equally at home here as he manhandled the large vehicle effortlessly over the rugged road, around the snakelike bends and across the muddy remains of creeks. There was obviously a great deal she did not know about Klaus Mikaelson. A shiver ran down her spine and she reminded herself yet again that this honeymoon was more to satisfy convention than because Klaus wanted to be alone with her.

"Bulldust!" he groaned.

She jumped, startled. "What did you say?"

"I wasn't swearing." He gestured towards a red cloud which obscured the road ahead of them. "I always hope to have this road to myself. The dust around here is so fine that once another car stirs it up it lingers in the air for ages—and it's called bulldust."

Caroline soon found out what he meant. As they gained on the other car they were enveloped in a choking cloud of dust as fine as talcum powder. In minutes it coated every inch of the car's paintwork and seeped through every vent and crack into the interior. With a curse, Klaus pulled the car off to one side of the road in the shade of a paperbark. "We'd better stop here for a break and let them get well ahead of us." He cut the engine and silence reigned.

After the cool interior of the car, the heat was oppressive when they ventured outside, even though it was late in the day. Luckily it was not stifling mugginess of the Wet and they were both used to high temperatures. Klaus walked around to the back of the vehicle and let down a tailgate so it made a table where they could spread out a picnic meal.

"I should be doing that," Caroline said irritably. "I was the one hired as wife, remember."

"So you were. Very well, Mrs Mikaelson, to work!" She had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her, but his dark sunglasses made it impossible to read the expression in his eyes. He handed her the picnic basket, then flopped down under the nearest tree and pulled his wide-brimmed hat low over his eyes. Although he appeared to be dozing, she felt sure he was watching her at work.

At least organising a meal was something she was qualified to tackle, she thought as she explored the contents of the basket. Klaus knew they would not reach their destination until late evening, so the basket was a sensible idea. Someone—butler, chef or housekeeper—had planned the contents well. There were thin slices of roast chicken kept cool between chilled containers of potato of Camembert cheese and bunches of succulent grapes, their skins glistening at the change in temperature from refrigerator to open air. Caroline arranged the food decoratively on plastic plates and was about to summon Klaus when she noticed a clump of flowering plants on the side of the road. Weeds or not, they were attractice, so she picked a couple and arranged them in a plastic drinking mug between the two plates. The chilled bottle of Moselle she put ready for Klaus to open together with the cockscrew and two disposable wine glasses. Someone really had thought of everything.

"Tea's ready!" she called, then realised that Klaus really was asleep by now. As she stood looking down at him she was surprised to feel a rush of something very like tenderness wash over her. With his face concealed by the hat, he reminded her of Damon, who had the soldier's gift of being able to drop off anywhere. A cloud passed across the sun and the shadow chilled her, bringing her back to an unwelcome awareness of the present. She shook his shoulder more roughly than she had intended.

"Oh, sorry, I must have dozed off," he said, and stood up, stretching luxuriously.

It was as if the sun had gone in on her mood. Instead of the day being bright with promise, she felt she had received a timely reminder of her place in Klaus's life. Chattel, not chatelaine, she reminded herself as she watched him dusting off his clothes.

He eyes the arrangement of the food appreciately but said nothing, although he did begin to eat with obvious enthusiasm. Her own appetite gone, Caroline nibbed around the edge of a piece of cheese.

"Not hungry?" he asked, and she shook her head. "Not regretting our arrangement already, Mrs Mikaelson?"

"There's nothing to regret," she said coolly, then with more vigour, "and stop calling me that!"

He raised a curious eyebrow. "But you are Mrs Mikaelson." He stopped and she saw the expression on his face turn hard and cold. "Unless, of course, you still think of yourself as Mrs Damon Salvatore."

"Would that be so wrong?"

"Given that the husband in question turned out to be a crook—yes."

Fury blazed in Caroline's eyes. "Damon was never crooked—misguided, perhaps, but that's all."

Klaus's face was a mask of disdain. Caroline knew that by defending Damon she was only adding fuel to Klaus's belief that she was a willing accomplice in Damon's crimes. Why couldn't he understand that Damon had been a sick man? No, Klaus would never understand—he had never had a weak moment in his life, so how could he understand, far less forgive, the weakness of another man?

They continue the drive in silence, the atmosphere in the vehicle now cool in spite of the searing heat outside that turned the landscape into a shimmering curtain on either side of the road. In the haze, cud-chewing water buffaloes stood like statues or lay in their mud wallows and hardly spared the travellers a glance. The massive grey beasts reminded her of overgrown cows, but she knew it was neither sensible nor safe to treat them as such. A little like Klaus Mikaelson, she mused, giving him a furtive glance. Outwardly, he looked like any other man—a prime specimen, true enough—but still a man. Inwardly, he was an efficiently machine programmed to set and attain ever higher goals, all without the handicap of that tiresome thing called compassion.

The unexpected appearance of a level airstrip in the middle of nowhere was their first sight of the settlement of Ontario. It came as a surprise to Caroline to see buildings in the middle of the bush. Admittedly, they were little more than a collection of prefabricated huts, but they rose with startling suddenness out of the shoulder-high spear-grass dotted with stunned gum trees. In the light of the half-moon, the settlement looked eerie and ghostlike, but at the sound of their motor, lights popped on and soon the place looked friendly and inviting.

Although the day had been hot, the evening was chilly and a cold wind rustled through the paperbark trees, making strange shuffling noises that reminded Caroline of old ladies shuffling along in carpet slippers. She climbed stiffly down the car, groaning as her cramped muscles protested at the long confinement.

The owner, a cheerful Englishwoman named Jenna Sommers, bustled out to welcome them. "Hello there," she said, and introduced herself. "How many times did you get bogged?"

She was surprised when Klaus told her they had crossed every creek and other impediment without a single mishap. "This young lady must be your lucky charm," she said. "Your first piece of good luck was in finding her, wouldn't you say?"

Klaus laughed goodnaturedly and did not contradict this suggestion as Caroline thought he might. It was obvious from the continuous banter between him and Jenna that he was a frequent visitor to Ontario.

They were shown to one of the cabins which Jenna called "the honeymoon suite" because it was set a little apart from the others in a clearing. "You can have your meals with us in the dining room or have them sent over here, if you prefer to be alone," she said, nudging Caroline knowingly.

"We'll come to the dining room," Caroline said quickly, and ignored the sardonic look from Klaus.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. "We've kept dinner late for you, so we'll expect you in half an hour." Jenna handed Klaus some keys. "Watch out for the frogs in the bathroom."

Caroline gave Klaus an anxious look. "Frogs?"

He was unperturbed. "All the plumbing in this place comes straight from the creek, and they can't stop things like frogs finding their way up the pipes. Don't tell me a woman like you is afraid of a few little frogs!"

There it was again—a woman like her. Because he had her neatly pigeonholed as a hard, worldly female with criminal tendencies, she was not expected to have any feminine weaknesses. Well, she should know what to expect by now. All the same, she explored the adjacent bathroom curiously. Sure enough, there were two frogs clinging to the wall of the shower recess. There were only an inch long and bring emerald green. While she didn't exactly relish the idea of sharing her morning toilet with them at least they were not as repulsive as she expected.

"Should I dress for dinner?" she asked Klaus.

"As you like, things are pretty informal around here." Klaus had chosen for her. It was a one-piece cream dress that hugged her body in every shape. Klaus looked up and down with approval as she emerged from the bathroom. He had also changed into a black slacks and a short sleeved white shirt and looked so at home in the bush setting that she found it hard to reconcile with her earlier picture of him as a ruthless city businessman.

Jenna Sommers came bustling up as they entered the dining room. "Ah, the honeymooners! I hope you like the cabin, my dear."

Caroline muttered something noncommittal as Jenna led them to a table set for four. Two of the places were already occupied and the couple smiled in recognition as they approached.

"Klaus—speak of the devil!"

"Good evening, Matt, Rebekah. What brings you out here?"

"I'm doing a travel piece for a paper in New York." Matt responded, "so we decided to combine it with a holiday and a couple of other things."

Klaus turned to Caroline. "Caroline, meet Matt and Rebekah Donovan. Matt and Rebekah, my—wife, Caroline."

Caroline found herself a little tonguetied in the presence of the famous travel writer and his wife, and reflected that moving in Klaus's circle of high-powered friends was going to take some getting used to. They turned out to be a charming couple and Caroline was relieved that having them at the table saved her from having to grope for conversation with Klaus. Her only experience of travel was the purely practical kind of plane when Damon took them to the convention. Klaus and the Donovan were such seasoned travellers that their talk ranged from Artic Ocean to Antartica and all points in between. Watching Klaus surreptitiously as he talked animatedly with his friends, Caroline found herself wishing he could be as natural and friendly with her. It was a foolish hope, she reminded herself sternly. There was too much between them, but if circumstances had been different…

Then Klaus rose and drew her up with him. "We'll be getting some sleep now, folks, it was a long drive."

Matt grinned broadly. "Sleep—sure, what else would you expect on a honeymoon?" Rebekah dug him sharply in the ribs and he took the hint, but he could not resist one last wink at Caroline. "Goodnight…er…sleep well."

They walked back to the cabin in silence and the still night air magnified every sound so that footsteps were like gunshots and every breath sounded like a sigh. Occasionally, red eyes gleamed from behind the barrier of pandanus roots along the river, but Klaus assured her that these were just giant barramundi lying in the shallows and not crocodiles as she first supposed. All the same, she moved closer to Klaus's side and did not object when his arm slid protectively around her waist. She was suddenly conscious of a crushing weariness, a combined result of the strain of the day and the previous row of sleepless nights. She leaned against him and his hold tightened. Then they reach the cabin and before she knew what was happening, he swept her up in his arms.

"Klaus, what are you doing?" she murmured sleepily.

"Just carrying my bride over our first threshold," he responded, and at this, she came fully awake as she remembered the significance of this night. It was her wedding night and she had been well warned as to what Klaus expected of her.

"Put me down!" she protested, squirming in his arms as they came into the cabin.

He complied rather too quickly and her breath was taken away as she was dumped bodily on the bed. For a moment she was too winded to move, then she became conscious of her vulnerable position and scrambled upright while Klaus watched her, his expression dark and brooding.

"I'm going to get changed," she said, and her tone defied him to suggest anything else. But he said nothing as she gathered up her things and disappeared into the bathroom. She was disconcerted to find the door had no lock, but she was committed now and anything was better than staying in the other room when she knew all too well what was in Klaus's mind. Mechanically, she began to shed her clothes, but her fingers trembled so much that she had trouble with the delicate back fastening of the garment. She was still fumbling with it when the door swung open and Klaus appeared in the doorway.

"Here, let me do that." Before she could protest that she could manager he was across the room and was lifting the dress from her shoulders. She tensed as his hot fingers lingered longer than was necessary on her bare shoulders, then his hands travelled down in a gentle search until they found their quarry, the warm fullness of her breasts. "My God, Caroline, you're beautiful!" he breathed. She was conscious of the hot wind of his breath on the back of her neck, then he pulled her closer and she could feel his heart hammering in tandem with hers. Her control began to slip as waves of desire swept over her. He sensed the beginning of her surrender and turned her gently to face him. When he pulled her close she could feel the hardness of his body, making her shockingly aware of his need of her. His lips sought her neck, her shoulders and then her breasts, and she moaned softly as his teeth grazed the tender nipples. Desperately she clung to the last shreds of awareness of who she was and why she was here. This insane animal longing was not love, could never be love, and she dared not let herself be carried away on the tide of it. She turned herself to stone in his arms, and at once Klaus sensed the changed in her.

"Why, Caroline? Admit that you want me as much as I want you."

She turned her face away. "Yes, I want you," she confessed. "But it can't be like this for me. How could I ever face myself again if I went to bed with you when I know you don't love me?"

"Sweetheart, you're my wife," he reminded her harshly. "You knew what that meant when you agreed to marry me." He took her in his arms and began to kiss her again, but for Caroline, even the desire was gone, killed by the reminder of the true nature of their marriage. If he wanted a bedmate so much, she could co-operate as part of their agreement, but she knew she could contribute nothing to the relationship. It would be like making love to a lump of meat.

As if her read her mind, Klaus pulled away from her and studied her with thinly disguised disgust. "You cheap little fraud," he flung her, "all the way to the cabin you let me think you were prepared to keep your end of our bargain, but now the moment of truth has arrived, you're trying to get out of it!"

Tears flooded Caroline's eyes. "Klaus, please—you've got it all wrong."

He gave her a violent push that send her reeling out of the bathroom. "Get out of my sight!" he said savagely, and slammed the door between them. She heard the shower running and doors being slammed as he vented his frustration on whatever was handy.

Too weary even to think straight any more, she made the most of the respite to slip out of the remainder of her clothes and into a nightdress. She was in bed and feigning sleep by the time he emerged from the bathroom. As he moved about the room she kept her eyes tightly closed. After what seemed like eternity, she heard him climb into the single bed under the window and snap off the light.

Her thoughts were in chaos. Of course, she was relieved that he didn't carry out his treats to force her to sleep with him—and yet her body arched with a dreadful longing. In the two years since Damon died, she had remained faithful to him. Now, as she moved restlessly in the bed, her body felt stiff and awkward as if she was a machine that had grown rusty from lack of use.

She awoke to find Klaus's bed made up with almost military precision and most of his clothes were missing from the wardrobe. With a guilty start, she saw it was almost ten o' clock. She must have been more exhausted than she realised, to sleep so late. Puzzled, she showered and dressed quickly, then went over to the dining room to seek out Jenna.

"Klaus didn't want to disturb you, so he asked me to let you know he was called back to the office unexpectedly—some crisis or other," she was told.

"But the car is still here."

"They sent a helicopter to pick him up from the airstrip." She patted Caroline's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, love, he'll be back. After all, what redblooded man would leave his beautiful new bride alone in the bush for longer than he had to?"

What man indeed, Caroline thought bleakly. Only a man whose bride had let him down so completely on their wedding night. But what did he expect? Dispiritedly, she returned to the cabin and sat staring out of the window, endlessly replaying the events of the night before in her mind. No matter how she looked at it, she would do the same thing again. She did want him, she admitted it, but sexual attraction was not enough. She was no prude, but she had to face the fact that love was important to her, inside marriage or out of it. Of course, Klaus could and probably would take her by force when he was ready—she wasn't strong enough to stop him. But it would be one-sided, she resolved, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of meeting him even half-way.

Rebekah Donovan had plenty to say when she found out that Klaus had gone off and left Caroline alone. She gave her a curious look when Carline insisted she was perfectly happy with the arrangement, then she and Matt took her under their wing to show her sights of Toronto.

They were excellent companions and for hours at a time Caroline managed to forget her heartache. She received no messages from Klaus and wondered how he was explaining his presence in the city to his associates. There was bound to be talk over the new Mrs Mikaelson being deserted on her honeymoon. Knowing Klaus, he would probably come up with some perfectly acceptable explanation. She was certain of one thing—he wouldn't be lonely, not with the indispensable Hayley Marshall to keep him company. Come to think of it, maybe she was the emergency that he was so eager to get back to, since his bride had disappointed him. Hayley was probably far more compliant.

Stop it! Caroline told herself guiltily. She was acting like a jealous wife, and that she most certainly was not. Determinedly, she threw herself into the activities mapped out by Matt and Rebekah. If Klaus hoped to teach her a lesson by abandoning her like this, she would beat him yet. When he returned he would find her having a wonderful time without him.

"What's on the agenda today?" she asked Matt, forcing herself to sound lighthearted and carefree.

"We're taking the punt down the river," he told her. "You're welcome to come, of course, but are you sure you wouldn't rather wait here for Klaus? He's due back later today, Jenna tells me."

"Of course not. He'll be pleased that I found plenty to do," Caroline assured him.

Soon afterwards, they set off in the big flat-bottomed punt with Caroline in the centre seat. Rebekah at the front and Matt at the back manning the outboard motor. The purr of the motor was soon matched by the calls of the thousands of wild birds who lived around the river, parts of which were still hardly touched by man. Rebekah pointed out wild ducks, white ibis, pied geese and dozens of other lanky wading birds fishing for food in the shallows. Pelicans swooped down to scoop up a meal of barramundi and hawks skimmed the air currents overhead.

"It's so peaceful here," Caroline breathed, "as if time has stood still."

"It has for that fellow," Matt laughed, and Caroline looked in the direction of his pointing finger to what looked like a rotting log jammed up among the strangely twisted pandanus roots fringing the river. At the sound of their outboard, the 'log' stirred and slithered into the water with hardly a trace.

"A crocodile?" Caroline asked a little uneasily.

"Sure was. Big one, too. Don't tell me you've never seen one before?"

"I've never ventured much outside the city," she told him. "Of course, I've seen them in wildlife reserves, but never in the wild—and certainly not as close as that."

"There's the spot we were looking for," Rebekah called from the front of the boat.

"Cave paintings," Matt explained, gesturing towards the large amount of photographic equipment in the bottom of the boat. "I'm doing a book of Aboriginal art, so we thought we'd get some photos of these while we're here."

They found a level spot to pull the boat up on to the bank. Caroline slithered in the sticky mud and felt glad she had worn sensible shoes. As it was, the mud sucked at her ankles and made every step an effort. She was dripping with perspiration by the time they reached the escarpment where Matt expected to find the primitive paintings.

It was a hard climb to the top, but they agreed that it was worthwhile as they stood in the natural amphitheatre, looking in awe at the ancient drawings. Klaus told her they were thousands of years old and excitedly snapped away with his camera while Rebekah made sketches and notes.

Caroline recognised the X-ray style of painting from Aboriginal art galleries she visited in New York, and Matt explained that these were the work of ancestors of the Gunwiggi tribe.

"What about these line drawings—they seem different from the rest?"

"The Gunwiggi people say they were done, not by real people, but by the Mimi—the spirit people."

Caroline shivered. The presence of so many ghosts disturbed her and she could hardly wait to get back into the sunlight. "You finish your work and I'll wait in the boat," she suggested.

Matt barely looked up from the measurements he was taking of some hand prints. "Okay, Caroline, but keep an eye out for stray buffalo—and crocodiles, of course. We won't be long."

Caroline made herself comfortable in the bottom of the boat. Lulled by the whine of insects, the birdcalls and the gentle lapping of water against the punt, she drifted into a restless sleep. The boat's rocking disturbed her at last and she sat up, bewildered for a moment, until she remembered where she was. Groggily, she looked at her phone. No signal. It was more than an hour since she had left Matt and Rebekah at the caves, but she looked around worriedly, they emerged from the bush and clambered into the boat.

Rebekah regarded her in alarm. "Caroline, look at your arms!"

She looked down and saw that her skin was an angry red colour from shoulder to wrist. "The sun must have moved around while I dozed," she said, "I didn't realise I was getting burned."

"You'll feel that tonight," Matt warned. "We'd better get back to Ontario and put some cream on those burns."

They were as good as their word and took the boat back by the fastest way. Matt was right, already Caroline could feel a pulsating sensation all along her arms. No position she adopted felt comfortable and her skin felt hot to the touch. Jenna exclaimed in horror when she saw Caroline and bustled off at once to fetch burn cream and some painkillers dissolved in a glass of water. "We expect tourists to do silly things like fall asleep in the sun," she chided gently, "but someone who lives in New York, ought to know better."

"You know what they say about mad dogs and women going out in the noonday sun," Caroline replied with forced lightness, but already she felt alarmingly ill, and she drank the painkillers gratefully.

"What's going on here?"

It was Klaus, and he looked extremely angry. What have I done now? Caroline wondered, then remembered that, as a dutiful wife, she should have been waiting for him when he returned.

"Caroline's got a bit sunburned, that's all," Matt soothed. "She'll be fine after she's had a rest."

"Klaus, I'm sorry," she murmured, and wondered why Klaus looked puzzled. Wasn't she supposed to apologize for keeping her lord and master waiting? It was all too confusing. The room began to spin around her and she felt as if she was suffocating. She must get some fresh air. She stood up, swaying, and stumbled towards the door, and Klaus barely caught her as she fell.

"I'm alright, really," she murmured, but he ignored her. Barely conscious, she nestled against his chest as he carried her back to the cabin. She didn't know why, but suddenly she felt madly happy and lightheaded. She giggled and snuggled closer, feeling his strong arms tighten around her. Then they were in the cabin and Klaus set her down carefully on the bed.

The tablets and the cream were having an effect and she lay with her eyes closed, feeling the fire in her arms gradually subside to a tingling sensation. It reminded her of the time she and Damon first visited California. They had crossed Harbour by ferry to spend a whole day on the beach. She was a newcomer to the Territory's sunburn that nearly drove her out of her mind as her skin itched and peeled. Dreamily, she recalled how tender Damon had been with her, his caresses feather-light on her burned skin. She shivered, but with delight with this time as she felt his lips slim the tops of her shoulders. With a sigh, she embraced the dream and enfolded Damon in her arms. She felt him gently unbutton her dress and push the material aside so he could explore her body. His questing fingers found her nipples under her bra, before he grew impatient, and pushed the garment up higher, the better to caress her hardening breasts. His skin felt as hot as her own and she pulled his head down against her. As she stroked the tousled hair, she felt his caresses become more urgent and demanding.

"Oh , Damon," she whispered happily. In that moment, she realised it was no dream and it was not Damon with her, but Klaus. Oh God, what had she done! She knew that by mistaking Klaus for Damon she had done the unforgivable. Even the excuse of the sunburn would not protect her—Klaus would never be cuckolded by any man, not even one who had been dead for two years.

His grip on her became hard and punishing. "You little whore!" he growled.

"Klaus, you're hurting me!" she whimpered.

"Not as much as I'm going to," he promised. Heedless of the pain in her burned arms, he pulled her to him, and she felt too numb and sick to resist. There was nothing she could do but submit to the cruel demands he made on her.

Afterwards, he flung her aside like a broken doll. She lay where he left her, too defeated to even move away. Her whole body ached from his rough treatment and the pain was back in her arms where they had rubbed against the bedclothes, but they were trifles compared with the agony of spirit she felt. Try as she would to hold them back, she could not stop the tears from coursing down her cheeks.

"More crocodile tears?" Klaus demanded in a voice like ice.

She swallowed convulsively. "What—what are you talking about?"

"I mean you almost had me fooled with your 'little innocent' act. Tell me, how many other men have you given yourself to in defence of your late great husband?"

"Klaus, that's not fair—and it's not true!"

"Oh no? You're still so in love with him you thought I was Damon. And you expect me to believe you didn't know what sort of man he was!" Before she could utter a word in her defence, he stormed off into the bathroom. She winced as if she had struck her physically as the door slammed shut between them.

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**AHHHHHHH *runs, hide and cries* DON'T HATE ME PLEASEEEEEEE!**

**Next chapter, there will be interaction mostly between Klaus, Caroline, Tyler and Hayley. And again, stay with me till the end pleaseeeee! It's going to be worthy! :D**

**Side note: my geography suck, if I described Ontario and Toronto wrongly, pretend you're in the country I invented instead. Sorry for that.**

**AGAIN, DON'T HATE ME, STAY WITH ME TILL THE END! **

"**Never regret anything because at one time, it was exactly what you wanted."**

**Thank you for reading! 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! *shy away* To be honest, I didn't get very good reviews for the past few days. Everyone was shocked with the storyline. I guess I even lost some readers. It made me feel guilty but rest assured; I will not give a bad storyline if I wasn't plotting on something else. So—hope this chapter brings more understanding.**

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The trip back to New York was a nightmare. Klaus spared her only the most essential words over breakfast and Caroline found she couldn't eat a thing. Matt and Rebekah gave them curious glances and, once or twice, she was sure Matt was going to say something, but stern looks and warning kicks under the table from his wife held him back. Caroline was grateful for Rebekah's restraining influence. She couldn't have borne Matt's teasing, however good-natured, right now. In fact, she felt as if the slightest little thing would make her break down and cry.

In the car, Klaus's expression was grim. He drove fast, heedless of the rough terrain, and many times Caroline had her hearth in her mouth as the Range Rover all but took flight over some of the bumps in the road. Klaus seemed to take a perverse pleasure in punishing the car and, indirectly she supposed, the occupants.

After half a day of this, Caroline was worn out. Her nerves screamed with every new hairpin bend and the tension crackled between them like electricity. At least she turned a tearful face to him. "What do you want from me?" she pleaded.

"Answers," he said through clenched teeth. "And I got them last night. Even while I was making love to you, you were still loyal to your precious Damon—and you expect me to believe he could lead a double life without you suspecting a thing!"

"You never really believed in my innocence, did you?" He did not respond, so she pressed on doggedly, answering for him. "This whole farce was just an elaborate device to wring what you think is the truth out of me, wasn't it?"

He appraised her coldly and returned his attention to the road ahead. "The outcome speaks for itself, Mrs Mikaelson."

"Stop calling me that!" she screamed, then lurched forward as he brought the car to a screeching halt, stirring up flurries of dust all around. He turned towards her and she thought he was going to hit her. "I'm not hysterical," she said quickly. "Why did you suggest marriage anyway?"

"I hate being played for a fool," he responded harshly, "by you or Damon Salvatore. I wanted to see how far you would take your charade. Frankly, I thought it would take longer than this to get the truth out of you."

"And you think you have all the answers now, I suppose?"

"I got all I needed last night."

"You're hateful," she spat back, tears clouding her eyes. "As soon as we get back to New York I'm taking Candice and going home. There's no point in keeping up this ridiculous farce any longer."

"Oh, but there is, sweetheart," he said dangerously. "You see, I don't plan on explaining to my friends and associates why Klaus Mikaelson couldn't stay married for longer than a week. Apart from which, you seem to have forgotten the original reason for our—arrangement. You've as good as admitted that you were a party to Damon's fraud, so you owe me eleven hundred thousand dollars' worth of marriage. At a couple of thousand dollars a week, about twelve months should give me my money's worth. After that, if you went home to Atlanta—say, to be with your sick mother—it wouldn't raise an eyebrow."

"What if I don't cooperate as hostage to your ego?"

"I thought you didn't want Candice finding out the truth about her father?"

She looked him up and down disbelievingly, as if he was a venomous snake she'd encountered on the roadside. "You wouldn't dare?"

Klaus shrugged. "It's pretty much up to you, isn't it?"

Caroline's blood chilled at the first mention of her daughter's name, but now, as the car tore along again, her spirits began to rise. Twelve months! It was like a life sentence, but at least it had an end. If she could endure a year of marriage of Klaus Mikaelson she would be free of any obligation to him. She could take Candice and leave, sure that her illusions about her father were safe for ever.

.

Under any other circumstances, Caroline would have been delighted with Cooinda, but after three months, she felt more like a prisoner there than the mistress of Klaus's luxurious home, despite its name which, she discovered was Aborginal for 'happy place'.

The handsome white villa could have been a happy place, she often thought, if its many rooms were filled with the shouts of children and the hurly-burly of family life. A house like this was made for a family and she could easily picture a tribe of energetic youngsters racing through the spacious grounds. The big shady trees were just made for tree houses and climbing and the thick stands of hibiscus would make splendid territory for hide and seek. She had already decided she liked the place best on Sundays, for that was when the sweeping view of the harbour spread out in front of the house came alive with sails, red and blue and yellow, as members of the sailing club tore madly along their sea roads, tacking and turning to catch the best breeze and beat the other boats.

As she often did since they returned from Ontario, she wandered aimlessly from room to room. Not for the first time, she wondered what she was supposed to do all day. She had played hostess for Klaus at a number of his business functions already but that involved little more than looking pleasant and making intelligent conversation. All the cooking and cleaning up was handled by Klaus's efficient staff. She reached the main living room and thought again what a pleasant place it was. It was a huge room filled with chunky, comfortable furniture, whose wide wooden arms invited guests to balance pieces in this room was a low black travertine table on which sat a metal sculpture of a horse. Klaus shrugged it off as an unimportant souvenir when she asked about it, but now, as always, she found herself drawn to it, empathising with the mood of lonely dignity it seemed to project.

"Penny for them."

"Oh, hello, Tyler," she said as Klaus's young assistant shouldered his way into the room, his arms filled with a huge cupboard box. "What have you got there?"

He dropped the box on to the floor and made a show of mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "Christmas decorations. I hoped you'd help me put them up."

"Christmas! I'd forgotten it was so close. Whose ideas were the decorations?"

He winked. "Mine, of course! The boss can't be bothered with frivolous things like Christmas decorations. But I thought young Candice would get a kick out of having them."

"She certainly will," Caroline agreed, and recalled with a pang the last Christmas when she and Candice spend hours linking together their frugal paper chains. "It was awfully kind of you to think of this, Tyler."

He reddened and looked down at the floor. "It wasn't much," he protested. Then his expression grew more serious. "I enjoy so much having you here, you know, Caroline. You're the first person I've been able to really talk to."

"That's sweet of you to say so, Tyler. But what about Klaus and Hayley? They both like you, I know."

"Oh, Klaus's fantastic when it's anything to do with business. I love working with him and I've learned a great deal from him. But I've never felt as if I could discuss anything with him outside business matters."

"And what about Hayley?" she asked gently. It was a shot in the dark, but she knew from his startled expression that it had hit home. At once, so many things made sense to her—the way Tyler became unaccountably shy whenever the secretary came into the room, the small thoughtful tasks he hurried to do for her even when she gave him no recognition for it—Tyler was head over heels in love with Hayley Marshall.

"We used to be engaged, you know," he said thoughtfully.

"No, I didn't," said Caroline, surprised. "What happened?"

"Nothing much. We were getting along fine until she came to work for Klaus. Then she decided she could do a lot better for herself than me."

So she was right, Hayley did have her eyes on Klaus. "That explain why she's got such a set against me," she mused.

"Oh, I don't think she'd do anything to come between you and Klaus," Tyler said empathically.

I wouldn't bet on that, Caroline thought wryly, then decided to keep the observation to herself. Tyler was obviously hoping that, mow Klaus was married, he would have a chance to patch things up between himself and Hayley. She said as much, and saw Tyler brighten at once.

"Do you really think so?"

Caroline nodded. "Just wait and see. Maybe she needs more time." She dived into the cardboard box and came up with her hands full of sparkling garlands. "How about we get on with the decorating?"

The next two hours flew past as she climbed ladders and held the ends of tinsel streamers while Tyler pinned and taped them into position. At last they stood back to admire their handiwork.

"Now it really does look like Christmas," she agreed.

"Oops, forgot one small detail."

She looked after him curiously as he dashed from the room and returned minutes later with a spray of greenery. "What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Would you believe—mistletoe?"

"It looks more like a hibiscus branch to me," she protested.

"Well, let's call it New York mistletoe, then," he suggested. "It's the best we're going to do—and besides what do you expect with a Christmas that falls smack in the blizzards."

"I suppose I'll get properly used to it," she smile. "I miss the snow and ice, roast turkey and plum pudding."

"Christmas will be merrier with you and Candice here," Tyler said sincerely.

She was moved. "It does make a difference having a child around the place. They say Christmas is meant for children, after all."

"It's also for kissing other grown-ups under the mistletoe—pardon me, New York mistletoe," Tyler said mischievously, and before she knew what was happening he had pulled her beneath the foolish twig and kissed her soundly.

"Tyler, you idiot!" she gasped when he freed her lips at last. "You're going to have a lot more trouble convincing the other girls that stuff is mistletoe. They won't all be as gullible as me."

"You're a good sport, Caroline—I'm glad Klaus married you," he said, suddenly serious. Then the wicked sparkle returned to his eyes and he grasped her firmly. "But you're right, I do need more practice before I'm turned loose on the young womanhood of New York. Take that!" They both were laughing too much to manage anything like a proper kiss, but as Caroline wrestled playfully with Tyler, it looked to any observer as if she was responding ardently to his embrace.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're keeping busy, Caroline."

She and Tyler jumped apart like guilty schoolchildren. "Klaus!"

"You obviously didn't expect me back so early," he said coldly.

"Look, Klaus, we were only having a bit of harmless fun," Tyler protested. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

Klaus looked his assistant up and down grimly. "Luckily for you, I know what Caroline can do to a man where she sets her mind to it," he said. Tyler looked stunned and Caroline had trouble believing she was really hearing this.

"Just what are you trying to say?" she demanded.

"I'm saying I'll thank you not to lead my staff on as soon as my back is turned." To Tyler, he said savagely, "Get out of here and be glad you're still got a job to come to tomorrow."

"But, Klaus…"

"Go, now, before I change my mind."

Stiffly, Tyler turned on his heel, leaving Caroline to face Klaus.

"That was unforgivable!" she fumed.

"Then you don't deny that you were leading him on?"

"Of course I deny it. As Tyler said, it was just harmless fun—but perhaps you've grown so hard and heartless you've forgotten what fun is?"

His expression turned thunderous. "I warn you, Caroline. I won't stand for you inflicting your cheap morals on a good man like Tyler. He's not worldly enough to be proof against your wiles and he's too promising a businessman to have you spoiling his chances."

Her eyes stung with beginnings of tears at the unfairness of the accusation. "If I'm so objectionable to you, why not just let me go and be done with it?"

His eyes widened in sudden understanding. "So that's your game, is it? You think all you have to do is make yourself obnoxious enough and you'll be released from your bargain!"

It was such a low blow that Caroline was speechless. She felt hot colour suffusing her cheeks and knew she had never hated anyone as much as she hated Klaus at that moment. No matter what she did he was determined to think the worst of her. She could deny everything and he would still believe what he chose. So she kept silence, but could not stop her jaw from quivering with the effort of holding back the tears.

"Now don't start any more of your damned crying," he raged. "It may have worked with all your other men, but I warn you, it doesn't work with me. Now I've been forewarned I'll make sure you're kept too busy to get up to any of your tricks. I'm giving a Christmas party for a large number of my friends and associates," he went on, "so you can start by giving Hayley a hand with the organising. That ought to keep you out of mischief for a while.

He stormed out, and Caroline collapsed on to a chair. The decorations which had seemed so attractive before Klaus's outburst now seemed tawdry and cheap, like the image he was determined to have of her, she thought miserably. Why wouldn't he give her a chance to explain instead of making up his mind from the flimsiest evidence? Poor Tyler, now he would be too afraid to say two words to her for fear of incurring Klaus's wrath. He was so determined to punish her that he objected even to an innocent friendship.

Hayley was not pleased when told that Caroline was to help her organise the party. Her jaw tightened and her eyes glinted with steely disapproval. "I really don't know what Klaus expects you to do," she sniffed.

"I don't want to interfere with your way of doing things," Caroline said with forced brightness, determined to make the best of your situation. "You tell me what I can do best to help you."

Hayley responded by dumping a huge pile of invitations on to the table in front of Caroline and told her loftily to write them all, she had more pressing things to attend to then she disappeared into Klaus's study, leaving Caroline alone with the daunting task.

Caroline had already reduced the pile by half when shrieks of laughter from the back garden caught her attention. She chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully as she looked through the French windows to where Candice was playing with Klaus. In the time since they moved in here, he and Candice had become firm friends. There was no doubt that Klaus had a special knack of getting along with children. Candice was plainly thrilled with her new stepfather and proudly showed him off to her school friends. Although she now had a car to collect her from school and the best of equipment instead of hand-me-downs, she did not show any signs of becoming swollen-headed. Her status in the school hierarchy improved enormously, but fortunately she remained the same charming imp through it all.

As she watched them at their game, Caroline wondered whether it was wise to let Candice get so fond of Klaus. They had agreed to keep up the pretence for a year, where she would be free to go. Now, Klaus wanted to adopt Candice legally so she would benefit from his estate. He assured Caroline that it would not alter their arrangement, but she was uneasy. Yet if she refused him, she denied Candice all the material benefits that Klaus could give her. There was no way she could give her daughter anything like the same opportunities herself. By way of reassurance, she told herself that Candice would be unhappy when they left all this behind but, like all children, she would soon forget this part of her life. But would Caroline be able to?

Alarmed at the trend her thoughts had been taking lately, she forced herself to stop and examine her own feelings. Since they returned from their honeymoon, Klaus had been cool and distant towards her, although once or twice she caught him looking at her strangely, as if she puzzled him in some way. He hadn't tried to force his way into her bed after that fateful night in Ontario. He didn't even attempt to kiss her again. On many long nights, she lay awake in her own room in the north wing of the house, listening to the small sounds of him moving around, dressing or tossing in bed, with only the wall between them, but the connected door was firmly locked with no sign of a key which, Caroline presumed had been lost long ago.

So there was nothing to encourage her imagination, yet it persisted on dwelling on the night Klaus had made violent love to her on their honeymoon. No matter how much she tried to erase it from her mind, there was something about being taken in such a brutal way that both fascinated and repelled her. She shuddered at the memory. How could she possibly be romanticising what was tantamount to rape? Yet she was, and a curious warmth suffused her thighs as she thought about it. Her skin burned in all the places his fingers had touched, as if he had branded her in some mystical way.

Absently, she crossed her arms in front of her and began stroking her shoulders as if in pale imitation of that touch. As she became aware of that she was doing, she thrust her hands down impatiently and tried to conjure up a picture of Damon in her mind to dispel Klaus's nagging presence. For the first time since Damon had died she had trouble visualising his features. They were supplanted by new and much more compelling visions—Klaus's lips on her in that first possessive kiss; Klaus's teak body glistening with droplets of water after a swim, his black swimming trunk moulded to his thighs so that he looked more like some heathen water God than a living man; Klaus's melting into her arms as he caressed her with growing fervour that first night he came to her bed. Stop it, she told herself crossly, then the truth hit her with blinding clarity. She was falling in love with Klaus Mikaelson. There was simply no other way to explain how he haunted her mind, coming to her dreams and disturbing her every waking moment. She had been so sure she hated him that she never considered for a moment how thin was the dividing line between hate and love. When had she crossed it? she wondered. She always knew she desired him, but dismissed it as merely sexual attraction, not to be confused with the deeper commitment of love. What a fool she way! she told herself bleakly. Somehow, even while she assured herself she was immune to him, hated him even, she had allowed him to slip past her guard until, without her being aware of it, he had become an essential part of her existence. Because he was, she admitted now, yet she knew she could never be an essential part of his. He despised her because he thought she was an accomplished confidence trickster, so even if she did try to tell him how she felt, he would never believe she was sincere.

"Finished yet?"

She looked up as Hayley approached. "These are done," she said, and was annoyed with herself for sounding like a guilty schoolgirl caught daydreaming instead of doing her homework. Hayley seemed to have the unpleasant knack of making her feel awkward and gauche.

"I told Klaus I could work faster on my own," said Hayley, an expression of triumph on her model-perfect features.

You're a fast enough worker as it is, Caroline thought nastily, and just as quickly chided herself for allowing Hayley to bring out the worst in her. Aloud, she said, "You don't like me much, do you, Hayley?"

"You've done nothing but find fault with everything I've done since I got here," Caroline said, trying to leaven the criticism with a gentle tone, but Hayley's face remained impassive. "I'm not competing with you, you know," she persisted.

Hayley whirled away from her, her thick black hair swinging like a velvet curtain around her head. With her wand-like body and startling dark-eyed beauty it was easy to see how men would fall hard for her, even a man like Klaus. "Oh, but we are competing," she said venomously, "whether you admit it or not. You see, Klaus was mine before he ever met you."

"What are you trying to say?" Caroline asked, but in her heart she already knew the answer. It showed in the special looks that passed between Hayley and Klaus over meals, in the way his hand deliberately brushed her arm when she handed him papers to sign—Hayley was his mistress.

"Yes, I slept with him," she said triumphantly, in answer to Caroline's unspoken question. "He's very good in bed but of course, you already know that."

"Stop it, Hayley! What Klaus did before he married me is none of my affair."

"Who said I was talking about before he married you? Why do you think he came rushing back from your so-called honeymoon?"

Caroline felt as if she was the only passenger on a train that was rushing her headlong into a ghost tunnel. This had to be a nightmare. But it wasn't, Hayley was real and Caroline could not deny the truth of what she was saying—Klaus had left his new bride to come hurrying back. "Do you love him?" she asked, her voice catching a little.

Hayley looked genuinely surprised. "What's that got to do with anything? There are lots of things more important in marriages these days than love."

Like money, Caroline thought. Then she understood why Hayley was so antagonistic. By marrying Klaus, she had snatched from his secretary the security and lifelong comfort that could have been hers as Klaus's wife.

"It won't last, you know," Hayley was saying.

"What do you mean?"

"I intend to find out why Klaus married you so suddenly. If you were pregnant it would have shown by now, so there has to be something else, and I'm going to find out what is it."

Caroline was badly shaken by the venom in Hayley's voice, but she forced herself to sound calm. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hayley, and I'm sure Klaus wouldn't like to hear you threatening me in this way."

The secretary's green cat-eyes glinted. "But you're not going to tell him, are you? Whatever's going on between you two, I have a hunch you don't share many confidences. Remember, he's known me a lot longer than he's known you so which of us do you suppose he would believe? All I have to do is deny everything."

Caroline's shoulders sagged as she acknowledged that Hayley was right. Even the secretary couldn't know just how accurate she was in predicting that Klaus would take her word before Caroline's. if she tried to tell him about Hayley's threats he would only suspect her of some new deviousness.

There was a disturbance on the terrace and Klaus came in through the French doors, and strode across to the bar where he began to pour himself a drink. "Anything for you two?" he asked, looking up.

"Gin and tonic for me, thanks, Klaus. Caroline?" Hayley's look defied her to say anything about their conversation.

"No, nothing for me."

Hayley shot her a look of triumph. Maliciously, she dumped another pile of envelopes in front of Caroline.

"Not more invitations!" she groaned. "I don't recall putting nearly this many names on the list."

Klaus came across to join them and handed Hayley her drink. Caroline noted despairingly how he rested an arm casually on the other girl's shoulder as he glanced over the list she was holding. "There are a lot of people we can't afford to overlook. Hayley probably added some you wouldn't know about," he said. "Looks fine to me." Apparently oblivious of the tension crackling betwwen the two women, he toasted them with his glass and returned to the terrace.

Hayley's expression clearly said, "I told you so."

"A regular superwoman," Caroline said dryly.

"Why, thank you." Hayley sounded genuinely pleased, the irony totally lost on her. "Well, that's the last of the invitations."

"Aren't you going to help finish them?"

"Sorry, I can't," she returned without a trace of real apology in her tone. "Klaus wants me to do a few things at the Casino for him. Just put them on his desks when you're through and I'll see they go into the post. Oh—have a nice day."

"Some chance," Caroline muttered as she surveyed the daunting pile. But Hayley had already breezed out. She glanced over the list of names Hayley had added to the list. Most of them she was familiar with from the society pages of the newspaper but there was no one she knew personally. Then her eyes caught the names, Donovan, M. and R. At least there would be two friendly faces at the party, and right now she desperately felt the need for friends. The list started to swim before her eyes, so she lowered her head on to her forearms, her thoughts churning in disorder. So Klaus still turned to Hayley for comfort. The discovery came like a physical blow, even though she knew she shouldn't be surprised. Klaus hadn't slept with her since that disastrous night in Ontario, and he was no monk. Until now, it hadn't mattered, but now she admitted she loved him, it was agony to think of him in another woman's bed. Then there was Hayley's treat to uncover the secret of their marriage. All Caroline could do was pray that she would find nothing until the year was up, when she and Candice would safely leave. The thought gave her little comfort as she realised now how bleak her future would be without Klaus. With a deep sigh, she lifted her head and was surprised to find the sun still shining and the fragrant air filled with the calls of birds. How could the world look so lovely when it was raining so hard in her heart?

Her wrist ached from writing by the time the last envelope was added to pile and her hand felt as if it would drop off if she wrote another word. From force of habit, she glanced towards the garden to see what Candice was up to, and in spite of her heavy heart, she suppressed a smile at the sight that greeted her eyes. Candice had evidently been swimming with Klaus, for both were now clad in bathing gear. Klaus lay stretched flat out on the grass beside the pool and water glistened on his hard, tanned body. Next to him lay Candice, a nut brown scrap of humanity in a tiny floral bikini. She lay in an unconsciously identical pose with one arm flung possessively across her stepfather chest. They were both fast asleep.

Wearily, Caroline picked up the pile of invitations and took them into Klaus's study. It was the first time she had ventured into his private domain and she felt a thrill of curiosity. Normally only he, Hayley and Tyler went into the room and even the housekeeper was forbidden to disturb anything there. Klaus had not actually forbidden her to enter his study, yet she had a deliciously guilty feeling about being there, reminding her of how she used to feel as a child, exploring her parent's bedroom when they were out for the day.

The room was overwhelmingly masculine in tone. Most of the space was taken up by a huge oak desk surfaced in tan buffalo hide. Built-in shelves crammed with books on every conceivable subject occupied one wall, and a wooden rack filled with guns took up another. Above the rack stretched a magnificent set of buffalo horns and beside them was mounted the stuffed head of a wild boar, its lips curled back in a perpetual snarl. Two long tusks gleamed wickedly in the afternoon sunlight and Caroline had to tear her eyes away from the head's hypnotic attraction. The little-girl feeling of devilment returned, and she tiptoed around to the other side of the desk to sit in the massive leather chair. As she sat there, she marvelled at the power Klaus wielded from this room, and from his suite at the NOLA. The papers littering the desk bore letterheads from many of the places around the world where Klaus did business—Tokyo, San Francisco, Monte Carlo, London, Los Angeles. She leafed through them in fascination, not understanding the abbreviated language in the telex messages in the pile, but absorbing the sense of being in touch with the whole wide world.

She stroked the leather chair arms. They were a deep brown and firm, like Klaus's own arms, she thought absurdly. She leaned against the chair back and mentally turned the chair arms into Klaus's arms, wrapping around her securely with the warmth of love.

Suddenly her gaze was riveted by a letter in unmistakably feminine handwriting. The letterhead identified the source as Broome House and gave an address in Oakland, near San Francisco. It was dated the previous week, and Caroline felt almost ill as she read it.

_My dearest Klaus,_

_It is so long since I have seen you that I simply can't bear it any longer unless you come here soon to spend some time with your darling Persia. I know I have always been your favourite, and when you come…_

There was no more. With a sick feeling, Caroline scanned the desk top for the rest of the letter, desperate to know what promises the girl was going to make to Klaus. Yet the missing page was nowhere in sight.

Caroline found herself in an agony of uncertainty. It was obviously a love letter and she was not supposed to have seen it. The girl had written, 'I have always been your favourite'. Dear Lord, was Klaus running some sort of harem? First there was Hayley's blatant admission that Klaus had slept with her after he was married, and now this! Of course, she had known his reputation with women when she agreed to marry him, but she had somehow thought it would be different once he had a wife. Maybe he just expected her to join the queue! She was gripped with a fury so intense she had to restrain herself from rushing outside and snatching her daughter away from him. How could anyone of such questionable morals possibly condemn another person for their weaknesses? Yet he had damned her and Damon for theirs, knowing she wouldn't fight back because she believed him had never known a weak moment in his life.

Another thought occurred to her and she wondered if Hayley knew about his 'darling Persia'. Surely she must for the letter was in plain sight on the desk Hayley was using only a short while before. Evidently, she was so single-minded in her quest for financial security that she would put up with even this to have Klaus.

A black cloud of despair settled over her as she realised how hopeless the whole thing was. Even if she could convince Klaus she was not the cheap adventures he believed her to be, she could not stay here, leaving him and knowing she was just one of…who knew how many women. Her hand shook as she replaced the letter on the desk and left the pile of invitations on top. Without the letter, she might have weakened and given her feelings away to Klaus. Just in time, she had been saved from making a terrible mistake. Yet the thought gave her little consolation. While her mind calmly accepted the verdict she knew she must reach—guard your heart against him at all costs—her heart responded that it was already too late.

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**So—did I answer your queries? Up next: the Christmas party.**

**Thank you for reading! 3**


	6. Chapter 6

**HI! Woah, I've to be honest…the reviews threw me OFF the ship! But critiques are meant to be good!**

**Oh, and I've got my weather wrong. The story is meant to celebrate Christmas in summer instead of winter. Thank you to GhostInThePhoto for pointing it out! :D**

_**'We have to get up when we're knocked down, that's how we make our dream come true.' – Tyra Banks, ANTM 2.0**_

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The day of Klaus's party dawned blisteringly hot. Opening a door, Caroline discovered, was enough to let a wall of heat push its way into the house to do battle with the air-conditioning. Through the window, she could see the stand of gums that marked the side boundaries of Cooinda shimmering and dancing in haze. Even the hardy birds were silent, roosting pensively on their branches. Everything seemed to be poised, waiting. She jumped as the telephone shrilled, and debated whether to let one of the staff answer it. When it continued to ring, she shrugged and picked it up. "Mikaelson's residence."

"Hello, Care, it's me!"

Caroline felt tears of self-pity sting the backs of her eyes as she recognised her friend. "Oh, Bonnie! It's so good to hear your voice!"

Bonnie was instantly concerned. "What's the matter, Care? You sound very dismal for someone the newspaper kept writing up as the darling of the jet set. Don't tell me you're unhappy with Klaus?"

"No, it's not that," Caroline said quickly. "I guess I've just got a fit of blues, that's all. Everybody feels that way now and then."

"Not the Caroline I used to know. Tell you what, maybe you're in need of a break from all that high life. Jeremy and I are taking the boat across to the beach for a picnic—why don't you bring Candice and join us?"

For a fleeting moment, Caroline felt a surge of nostalgia for the days when she, Damon, Jeremy and Bonnie were a foursome, going everywhere together, and their two daughters growing up as close as sisters. "I can't, Bon," she said wistfully. "Klaus's throwing a big party tonight and I'm supposed to be the hostess."

"But that's not until tonight. From what I hear, Klaus has servants coming out of his ears, so you'll probably just be on their way. Anyway, you'll be back in plenty of time. Do say you'll come?"

"All right, I will. Just give me time to get some things together."

"No problem. We'll meet you at the wharf in an hour."

As she replaced the phone, Caroline could feel her heart lifting for the first time in days. Since she admitted to herself that she loved Klaus, life with him had been almost beyond bearing. Every time his arm brushed hers she felt a jolt like a blow. When he spoke to her, she was barely conscious of the words, focusing instead on his lips, remembering the bittersweet feel of his kisses. How she longed to have him hold her again, to punish her if he must with his demands, just so long as he never let her go. Time and again, she had to remind herself how futile her desires were. Yet she couldn't stop her errant imagination from torturing her with these thoughts. Klaus himself seemed oblivious her with these thoughts, treating her like a faithful housekeeper whom he occasionally patted on the head when she did a creditable job of playing wife for the benefit of his associates. Yet never did he spare her so much as a crumb of real affection to feed her gnawing hunger for him. Yet with Hayley, he was almost playful, teasing her endlessly and responding to her undisguised flirtation with a charm that tugged at Caroline's heartstrings. The coquette and the playboy—they seemed so ideally matched that Caroline wondered how she ever dared to think he might love her. Instead, it seemed every move she made was destined to further incriminate her in his eyes.

Nervously, she wondered what he would think of her plans for the day. She was contemplating whether to drop him a text or call him. But surely there was no harm in a beach picnic with a friend and her family. Even Klaus couldn't possibly find fault with that. And Bonnie had assured her they would be back in plenty of time to get ready for the party. Determinedly, she sought out Tyler, who readily agreed to give her and Candice a lift down to the wharf.

"You're sure you don't mind?" she asked as they set off.

"Of course not. The boss is out for the day and I've got plenty of time to finish the jobs he wants done. I'd have to take a coffee break anyway, so consider this it."

"You are kind," Caroline smiled, and looked over her shoulder to where Candice sat in the back seat, surrounded by so many beach toys it was hard to distinguish where the child began. "Did you have to bring that enormous frog?"

Candice clutched the toy defensively, holding it off to one side as if her mother might snatch it away. "Uncle Klaus gave it to me—and besides, frogs like to go to the beach."

"Can't argue with that," Tyler said cheerfully as he swung the car into a parking space. Bonnie and Jeremy were already waiting with an impatient Kat, who squealed with delight when her friend emerged from the unload their picnic basket and towels. "I'll pick you up here in the afternoon," he told her, then with a wave, he drove off back up the hill.

Soon they were all aboard on Jeremy's old boat which plied its way across the harbour to 'the other side'. Caroline sat back against the hard seat on the open top deck of the boat and felt cleansed as the cool breeze whipped through her hair. Away from Klaus's dominating presence, she felt her tangled thoughts straightening out again slowly.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" called Jeremy, and the wind whipped his words away.

Caroline nodded and started to relax for the first time since her turbulent marriage began. She was almost asleep by the time the boat bumped against the jetty.

Candice tugged at her hand. "Come on, Mommy, wake up. We're here!"

Caroline looked around dreamily. The resort was just as she remembered it from the last time, when she had been here with Damon. Beyond the wooden jetty jutting far out into the water was the familiar long low motel building and next to it, the rambling hotel with its weathered tables and chairs grouped haphazardly under the trees outside. While Candice and Kat eagerly raced on ahead, the adults followed at a more leisurely pace, enjoying the refreshing sea breeze and the lack of crowds at this time of the year.

As she sat at a table under a drooping gum tree, Caroline sipped her cold drink and almost managed to forget her heartache. She still dreaded the evening ahead, but now, with all of New York harbour between her and her worries, it was easy to push it all to the back of her mind. Only now, when she was surrounded by the undemanding affection of Bonnie and Jeremy, did she realise how much she missed their company. Klaus's indifference and Hayley's undisguised hatred left her without an emotional haven. Candice was too young to alleviate her loneliness and since Klaus's outburst she had been afraid to spend too much time with Tyler, the one person in the household who could have given her the uncomplicated friendship she craved.

The day passed in a pleasant blur of sandcastle building, seashell hunts, and a visit to the lone crocodile kept in an enclosure behind the hotel. They picnicked in the shelter of some huge boulders, enjoying a simple meal of cold ham, fresh tomatoes and crusty bread finished off with huge slices of juicy watermelon that left them all with juice dripping down their faces and arms. Amid much laughter and splashing, they washed off the traces of the melon in a rock pool, then lazed on the warm rocks, luxuriating in the peace and tranquillity of the beautiful setting.

"Too bad we can't swim," murmured Bonnie. "The sea sure looks inviting."

"Inviting, maybe," Jeremy retorted, "but I'm not taking any chances on getting stung by a sea wasp."

Caroline shuddered at the very thought. Sea wasp—she remembered laughing when she first discovered that New York's beaches were closed to swimmers for months each year all because of an insect. But like all New Yorkers, she quickly found out that the creatures trailed incredibly long tentacles through the water and a sting from one could kill in minutes. No, she agreed, it was far more sensible to stay out of the water during those months and let the deadly creatures have the sea all to themselves. After some desultory discussion, they settled for a dip in the hotel pool. It was set back from the sea on a shelf of rock and the stunning view of the harbour more than made up for the fact that they weren't actually swimming in the sea.

All too soon, it seemed, Jeremy decided it was time to return to the jetty where the boat was tied up waiting to make the return journey.

But in the boat, Jeremy realised something was wrong. Boatmen, clad in overalls, were swarming over the boat's engines and a cloud of black smoke hung in the air over the boat.

"I hope you have a spare," one of the men called to Jeremy. A cold hand clutched at Caroline's heart as the man said, "Looks like she's blown something. We don't know what. Reckon we can fix her, but it's going to be an hour or so before we get back with a replacement."

Caroline turned white and Bonnie quickly put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Relax, Care, it's only an hour's delay."

"But the party—I've got to get back."

"Look, Klaus will understand. You didn't arrange for the boat to break down on purpose."

How could she make Bonnie understand? Klaus knew she didn't want to play hostess for him at this party, which was the most important social event of the year for him. Now he would think she had arranged the hold-up somehow, putting another black mark against her for wrecking his plans. Of course, he wouldn't think she had anything to do with the boat breaking down, but would she be able to convince him it wasn't something—or someone—else that delayed her?

The skipper promised to come for them as soon as they get back with a replacement, so there was nothing they could do but go back to the hotel and wait. Caroline looked up in surprise as Jeremy handed her a glass of amber liquid.

"What's that?"

"It's brandy. Drink it, Care, you look like you need it."

Obediently, she did so, wincing as the fiery liquid stung her throat. Soon she could feel its warmth spreading all through her body, encouraging her to relax.

"Surely Klaus isn't such a tyrant," Bonnie said curiously, studying her friend's wan face.

"He doesn't like having his plans messed up," Caroline admitted.

"You really do love that man, don't you?" Bonnie murmured. Caroline's heightened colour gave her away immediately. With her close friend, she knew she couldn't hide the truth. "Well, that's a relief, at least," Bonnie went on. "Jeremy and I were worried sick about you—but as long as you love him, it's bound to work out."

But would it, Caroline wondered to herself, thankful that Bonnie hadn't asked the one question it would have choked her to answer—does Klaus love you? What could she have answered—no, he doesn't love me. He's keeping me tied to him as a punishment for Damon's failings—he keeps a girl in God-knows-where and still sleeps with Hayley Marshall. No, she couldn't bring herself to tell them the whole truth when it tore her heart out even to admit it to herself.

Getting the boat running again took much longer than an hour and, as it turned out, it was late evening by the time they got back to the wharf. Tyler had texted her saying he couldn't wait any longer, so Caroline shared a taxi with Bonnie and Jeremy, dropping the family off at home before going on to Cooinda. Anxiously, she kept darting glances at her watch which told her that the first of Klaus's guests would already have arrived.

He came to the front door as the taxi drew up, his face like thunder. "Klaus, I'm sorry we're late,' Caroline began, but he silenced her with a gesture.

"Go inside, we'll talk in a minute."

"But, Klaus…"

"Inside. I don't want half of New York knowing that my wife went off for the day with another man."

Caroline looked at him in utter bewilderment. "Another man? Klaus, what are you talking about?"

But he said nothing and took her by the elbow, roughly hustling her inside. Candice was dispatched to her own room and the housekeeper was sent to give her some supper.

In Caroline's room, Klaus closed the door, then turned to confront her grimly. "Are you going to tell me you didn't go off with Tyler Lockwood this morning?"

Caroline fought for calm. This whole situation was ridiculous. "Klaus, Tyler took Candice and me down to the wharf this morning, that's all. Isn't he here? He'll tell you so himself."

"No, he's not here," he said harshly. "When Hayley told me you'd gone off with him this morning, I assumed you'd spent the day together."

Caroline scowled. When Hayley told him—so that was it! The secretary had thought to make more mischief between herself and Klaus by planting this insane idea in his head. "Candice and I spent the day on the beach with my friends Bonnie and Jeremy and their little girl," she said coldly, furious that he should think the worst without giving her a chance to explain.

His expression lightened a fraction and he said evenly, "Then I take it I owe you an apology for the first accusation. But what the devil do you mean by coming back here at this time when you knew I was depending on you to look after some very important guess?"

"I can explain that," Caroline said wearily. The pleasant mood of the day was totally gone in the face of his unreasonable fury. "The boat broke down and we were stranded for two hours until they came back from the town with a replacement."

"That's very convenient," he said derisively, "considering how enthusiastic you were about this party to begin with. It's a pity they fixed the boat at all—if you'd been held up just a few more hours you would have got out of your duties together."

Caroline turned away from him, fighting down her humiliation and anger. In two sides, Klaus had crossed the room and taken her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "When will you realise you can't win, Caroline?" he demanded savagely. Then his mouth came down on hers, drowning her tears in a wave of passion and longing.

Her lips yielded willingly under his, letting his hard mouth bruise hers if he would; she had no spirit left to fight back, and no real will to resist. To her dismay, eh broke off the kiss abruptly, pushing her backwards away from him. She clutched the back of a chair to keep her balance and stared at him uncomprehendingly. His eyes glinted coldly and his mouth was a set in a grim hard line. "As I said, you can't win. Even if you'd stayed at Bahama, I would have found a boat and come to fetch you myself. So why can't you just accept that you'll do what I want, and not what you want as you've always been able to do? You may have twisted other men around your crooked little finger, but at last you've met your match. Now perhaps you understand that." Before she could say a word he was at the door. He turned at the threshold. "Get dressed, my guests are waiting to meet my wife."

For a long moment, Caroline stood rooted to the spot, staring after him with one hand pressed to her bruised lips. Music and laughter drifted on the night air through her open window, but their gaiety only served to heighten her feeling of isolation. As if in a dream, she moved slowly to the mirror and stared at her reflection, trying to will some colour and life into her expression. It was a miserable failure and she slumped against the dressing table. "I can't face them," she whispered to the mirror.

"You can and you will, Mrs Mikaelson."

She looked up to see Klaus standing over her. She hadn't even heard him come back. Now he looked like an avenging angel as he bore down on her. Dragging her roughly to her feet, he thrust an evening dress into her hands. "Put this on."

The scene was so much like a reverse of the usual Cinderella situation that Caroline laughed aloud. The prince was insisting she come to his ball and Cinders didn't want to go. The release of laughter was so welcome she laughed harder, uncontrollably until she was verging on hysteria.

Klaus took her by the shoulders and shook her violently. "Caroline, stop it!"

The laughter died on her lips. "I'm sorry, Klaus—please. I—I can't face that crowd out there."

"They're expecting to meet my wife and meet her they will," he said grimly. "Caroline, pull yourself together, and at least try to keep your half of our bargain. Any other woman would give her eye teeth for the life you have at present."

Any other woman probably did, Caroline thought dully. Resignedly, she pulled on the new dress, another of Klaus's choice. Klaus helped to zip her up. Its folds hugged her slim figure and accentuated her small waist. At least, the appealing result gave her some little comfort. None of the society woman was of azure shot silk in a faintly Oriental design, with a thigh-high split along one side that revealed her well-shaped legs as she moved. The revealing cut was far more daring that anything she would have chosen for herself, but one glance at Klaus's set expression told her this was not the time to protest.

Her face was already paled enough to complete the Oriental look, so she settled for smudging some smoky-colored eyeshadow over her eyeslds and outlining her lips with a coral lipstick. Klaus watched her every move and stood up when she finally announced she was ready. "Good," he said tersely, and opened the door for her. Perversely, she wished he would pay her some compliment, anything to bolster her flagging self-confidence. But he was silent as he led the way through the house to the terrace where lights blazed and people stood about in groups, making polite conversation. Every eye was on Caroline as Klaus steered her through the crowd. She felt naked in the revealing dress and wished again that Klaus had chosen some other outfit for her. But he was already introducing her to the first group of people and she fixed a careful smile on her face to make the expected responses. The smile became genuine as she recognized Matt and Rebekah Donovan. Rebekah swept her up in a cloud of flowery perfume and her greeting was warm as their cheeks touched, then Matt gripped her hand in both of his. "How's the lovely bride?"

"I—I'm fine, thank you, Matt. Did you finish your writing about Ontario and the book on aboriginal paintings?"

Rebekah rolled her eyes dramatically. "He did, thank goodness! One more frog in my shower and I would deserted him for an insurance clerk!"

The adoring look she gave her husband belied this statement. To Caroline, it looked as though Rebekah would travel to the ends of earth to be with Matt. She had known the feeling well, once, before it was taken from her. This time, she had only an aching love for the man at her side who collected women like souvenirs and was keeping her around only long enough to assuage his ego. Miserably, she drained her champagne glass in one swallow, and earned a look of concern from Matt.

"Easy on that stuff, honey!" he cautioned. "Or at least have some food before it goes right into your head."

The rest of the party passed in a haze for Caroline. She was introduced to so many people that her head began to spin, whether with the confusion or the champagne, she was not quite certain. She knew she had drunk more than was really good for her, but it seemed to lessen the ache insider her, so she decided she didn't care. Sir Marcel Somebody-or-other came up and introduced her to Lady Somebody-else, both friends of Klaus's from the international business community which used New York as the base for their Asian and South Pacific operations. None of it meant very much to Caroline, but she was determined that Klaus should find no further fault with her, so she managed intelligent responses to most of what was discussed and fielded the rest with her most winning smiles. Her gay mood and careful pose of sophistication was so convincing that she soon had a cluster of men around her. It certain made a change from the kind of suburban parties she had been used to, with the men congregating down one end of the room while the women contented themselves with baby-and-knitting talk down the other.

Once, she caught Klaus studying her from across the room and saw his frown deepen as she took yet another glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. She pretended not to see his expression and carried on talking gaily to a businessman who seemed to own a great deal of Central Australia. The man, an American business acquaintance of Klaus's, seemed very charmed with Caroline. He reached to fill her glass once more and she waved him away, very conscious now that she was decidedly lightheaded. When he suggested they should move away from the crowd for a breath of fresh air, she agreed readily, sure that all she needed to regain her poise was a moment or two of peace and quiet.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the crowd, the man changed and became alarmingly amorous. Before she knew what was happening, he had her wedged between himself and a wall, his lean outdoorsman's body pressed intimately against hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and his words were slightly slurred. As he bent his head to try to kiss her, she fought to free herself with some semblance of dignity, but he barred her way with his free hand.

"Look, you've had too much drink, you don't know what you're doing," she said, trying to sound calm although her heart was fluttering like a caged bird. He pressed his hand against her breast, feeling the pounding inside.

"Now then, isn't this what you've been asking for all evening?" he drawled. "I can tell when a girl's giving me the come-on—and you've been nothing but a green light from your head to those pretty toes of yours since we met."

"You're wrong, I was just being friendly," she protested and struggled free. His hand went to thigh, parting the split in the material so he could stroke the exposed skin. "Stop it or I'll scream—my husband will hear! He's going to kill you!"

"Ol' Klaus?" he shrugged, "he's got so much of everything, he won't mind if I borrow just one of his possessions for a mite."

He tried to kiss her again, and she was going to give him a slap on his face, but his amorous expression was replaced by one of stunned surprise when a figure loomed out of the shadows and pulled him violently away from Caroline.

"This lady is not a possession, she is my wife," gritted Klaus, his voice quivering with controlled fury.

The American looked bewildered. "Look, folks, I didn't mean a thing by it—I thought the lady wanted it…"

"Your apology is accepted," Klaus said evenly. In the half-light, Caroline could see his hands balling into fists, but he kept them rigidly by his sides. "I take it you're just leaving?"

The American scrambled to his feet with alacrity and backed away, habit making him reached for a non-existent hat to tip it Caroline's way. "Goodnight ma'am, I sure am sorry if I upset you—goodnight."

Then he was gone, and Caroline slumped against the wall, covering her face with her hands as sobs racked her body.

"It seems I arrived just in time," Klaus said coldly. "Or did I interrupt your after-dinner treat?"

Caroline looked up at him, horrified. "You can't think I wanted this to happen?"

He regarded her steadily, the only sound between them the night chorus of cicadas in the nearby trees. Even the party sounds seemed to fade into the background. "I don't know what to make of you, Caroline. You pretend innocent and virtue, yet every time I turn around you're giving a different man the come-on—every man, that is, except me!" With a muffled curse, he turned on his heel and there was nothing Caroline could do except follow him meekly back to the terrace.

The departure of the American had started a general movement towards the door. She waited with Klaus until the last of their guests drove off then, finally, there were alone.

Leaving Klaus framed in the doorway, staring moodily up at the night sky, Caroline went back inside and began methodically clearing away the party debris.

"Leave that and go to bed," Klaus said from the doorway. "That's what we employ staff for."

Distractedly, Caroline put down the brimming ashtray she was holding. "I didn't think, I'm still not use to people picking up after me."

"That's one of your problem, Caroline, you don't think. Take tonight, for example—any red-blooded man would have done what Hank did, or tried to if he thought he'd get away with it. yet when you went off with him, the thought never crossed your mind, did it?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed. He was actually giving her the benefit of the doubt. "No, I didn't think he'd be like that," she admitted. As he continued to study her in that disconcerting way, she realised they were completely alone for the first time since their honeymoon. Hayley had gone dancing with a group of the party guests and Candice was fast asleep in her own room. The staff had all gone to bed long ago. As they made their way to their bedrooms, Caroline was acutely conscious of Klaus close behind her. She held her breath as she reached her own door.

Instead of continuing past her to his own room, he followed her inside and shut the door behind him. "You made quite a hit with our guests tonight."

"I'm glad I didn't let you down," she said softly. Suddenly her legs felt too weak to hold her in that 4-inch heels and she sank down on the edge of the bed to remove it.

Swiftly he closed the distance between them and knelt beside her, gathering her into his arms and brushing his lips to her hair. She could smell alcohol on his breath. So he had been drinking and this had steeled him to come to her—she realised she didn't care. No matter what had brought him to her side, she would treasure the moment—it would be something to sustain her when the time came for her to leave him. Without any conscious decision, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled her to him so his head rested against her breast. Eagerly, his lips sought the white skin and her flesh burned where he touched it.

"Oh, Caroline," he murmured, "you don't know what you're doing to me. First, to think you'd gone off with Tyler, then to see you tonight with Hank…"

What she was doing to him! Dear Lord, if he only knew. She willed herself not to hear the endearments he whispered as his lips explored her body. "I want to tell you how ravishing you were today…" She forced herself to remember Hayley and Persia and all the others, yet all the while her traitorous heart urged her to give in, to melt into his arms and match his kisses with her own.

The whole thing was so wrong, yet so right. Klaus bewitched her with tender words that she knew to be empty and meaningless yet which thrilled her to her very core. When his hands sought out the fastenings of her dress, she helped him eagerly, knowing all the time that she should run from this room before it was too late. But it was already too late. The dress fell to the floor and his hands moved up to stroke her breasts, moulding the pliant flesh between his fingers as if to shape her to his heart's desire.

"Caroline, you're beautiful," he muttered huskily. "I've wanted you since the day we met."

Wanted her, not loved her, she thought miserably. There was a moment when she might have refused him and he would have obeyed, but she let the moment pass, knowing she should send him away but having no heart to try. Instead, she let him urge her gently to her feet so she stood naked before him, moonlight glinting off her milky skin. "God, Caroline, what are you doing to me?" he asked, then scooped her up in his arms and placed her in the bed.

She lay where he left her and watched him undress, the shafts of moonlight lancing off his hard, muscular body like spear thrusts that left no wound. The real wound was in her heart, she told herself, yet it was a pain she welcomed as a lesser torture than being without him. When he came to her she opened her arms willingly, telling herself she would always have this moment to remember when she could no longer have him beside her.

Whether it was the heady wine they had both drunk or the magic of the moment, Caroline would never know, but Klaus's lovemaking was unbelievably gentle and thoughtful. It was as if the brutal memories of their honeymoon belonged to two different people. Tonight, Damon might never have existed—there was only Klaus and the shattering discovery that he could also be this other tender man who moved her to such ecstasy.

Later, in the stillness of the pre-dawn, Caroline sat propped up in the bed and looked down at the man beside her, feeling his power over her even while he slept. If Klaus had chosen this way to exact his revenge on her, he had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. After the experience of last night, leaving him at the end of their year would be the hardest thing she had ever done In her life—but leave she must, she acknowledged, because she could not share him with anyone and he, it seemed, could never be content with just one woman. At the same time, she realised that if she was to keep her sanity, there must be no repetition of this night, no matter how much she yearned for it. Klaus belonged to Hayley and Persia and the rest of his glittering world, not to Caroline. She couldn't accept his way of life knowing that he did not love her.

Klaus stirred and opened his eyes, then smiled in sudden recollection of where he was, and reached for her. He did not see the tears that blinded her as she thrust his hand away.

"Sweetheart, what is it?"

"Don't touch me!"

He sounded puzzled. "But last night…"

"Last night I was full of champagne and goodwill to all men. Now I know what I'm doing." It was all she could do to stop her voice from cracking and giving her away.

His eyes were full of little-boy hurt that made Caroline's heart turn over as he asked, "Was it something I did? Did I hurt you?"

Willing herself not to cry openly, Caroline played her trump card. "Yes, it was something you did. Now you've had your revenge on me, you think you can just add me to your collection along with Hayley and—and your darling Persia!"

He sat up, his expression ugly in the half-light. "You don't know what you're talking about. Persia is…"

"Don't bother to explain. You've got Persia. I just want you to know that you haven't got me as well!"

Without a word he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes. She could feel his anger like a tangible thing between them as he threw on his clothes and went out, slamming doors on his way. a long time later she heard the front door slam and his car start up. As the sound of the engine died away, she buried her face in the pillow and cried like a child.

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**Thank you for reading :D!**


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